Poem
Tomaž Šalamun
THE DEER
Awe-inspiring cliff, white desire,water springing forth from blood,
let my form narrow, let it crush my body,
so that everything is one: slag and skeletons, fistful of earth.
You drink me, draining off the color of my soul.
You lap me up, like a fly in a tiny boat.
My head is smeared, I see how
mountains were made, how stars were born.
You pulled your brow out from under me. There I stand.
Look, in the air. Within you, drained, all
mine. Golden roofs bend up under us,
small pagoda leaves. I’m in silken candies,
gentle and tenacious. I funnel the fog into your
breath, and your breath into the godhead of my garden, the deer.
© Translation: 1997, Michael Biggins
From: The Four Questions of Melancholy
Publisher: White Pine Press, Buffalo, NY, 1997
From: The Four Questions of Melancholy
Publisher: White Pine Press, Buffalo, NY, 1997
HERT
Een allerangstwekkendste rotswand, wit, wit verlangen.Water, jij water, dat opwelt uit bloed.
Laat mijn vorm versmallen, laat mijn lichaam verkruimelen,
zodat het alles tegelijk is: sintels, botten, een handvol aarde.
Je drinkt me, alsof je de kleur uit mijn ziel trekt.
Je slurpt me op, als een vlieg in een piepklein bootje.
Mijn hoofd is besmeurd, ik voel hoe
de bergen ontstonden, hoe de sterren werden geboren.
Je trok je hoofd onder mij vandaan, daar sta ik.
Kijk, in de lucht, in jou, nu leeggegoten en
van mij. Gouden daken buigen onder ons,
pagodabladeren. Ik ben gehuld in enorme groene bonbons,
teder en taai. Ik duw de nevel in
je adem, je adem in het godenhoofd in mijn tuin, een hert.
© Vertaling: 2012, Roel Schuyt
JELEN
Najstrašnejša skala, bela bela želja.Voda, ki izviraš iz krvi.
Naj se mi oži oblika, naj bi zdrobi telo,
da bo vse v enem: žlindra, okostja, prgišče.
Piješ me, kot bi mi izdiral barvo duše.
Lokaš me, mušico v drobnem čolnu.
Razmazano glavo imam, čutim, kako so se
gore naredile, kako so se rodile zvezde.
Spodmaknil si mi svoje teme, tam stojim.
Poglej, v zraku, v tebi, ki si zdaj zlit in
moj. Zlate strehe se ukrivljajo pod nama,
pagodini listi. V ogromnih zelenih bonbonih
sem, nežen in trdoživ. Meglo ti potiskam v
sapo, sapo v božjo glavo v mojem vrtu, jelen.
© 1980, Tomaž Šalamun
From: Živa rana, živi sok
Publisher: ZO, Maribor
From: Živa rana, živi sok
Publisher: ZO, Maribor
Poems
Poems of Tomaž Šalamun
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THE DEER
Awe-inspiring cliff, white desire,water springing forth from blood,
let my form narrow, let it crush my body,
so that everything is one: slag and skeletons, fistful of earth.
You drink me, draining off the color of my soul.
You lap me up, like a fly in a tiny boat.
My head is smeared, I see how
mountains were made, how stars were born.
You pulled your brow out from under me. There I stand.
Look, in the air. Within you, drained, all
mine. Golden roofs bend up under us,
small pagoda leaves. I’m in silken candies,
gentle and tenacious. I funnel the fog into your
breath, and your breath into the godhead of my garden, the deer.
© 1997, Michael Biggins
From: The Four Questions of Melancholy
Publisher: 1997, White Pine Press, Buffalo, NY
From: The Four Questions of Melancholy
Publisher: 1997, White Pine Press, Buffalo, NY
THE DEER
Awe-inspiring cliff, white desire,water springing forth from blood,
let my form narrow, let it crush my body,
so that everything is one: slag and skeletons, fistful of earth.
You drink me, draining off the color of my soul.
You lap me up, like a fly in a tiny boat.
My head is smeared, I see how
mountains were made, how stars were born.
You pulled your brow out from under me. There I stand.
Look, in the air. Within you, drained, all
mine. Golden roofs bend up under us,
small pagoda leaves. I’m in silken candies,
gentle and tenacious. I funnel the fog into your
breath, and your breath into the godhead of my garden, the deer.
© 1997, Michael Biggins
From: The Four Questions of Melancholy
Publisher: 1997, White Pine Press, Buffalo, NY
From: The Four Questions of Melancholy
Publisher: 1997, White Pine Press, Buffalo, NY
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