26.

I tangle myself in memory,
in my senses, and I drift.
Laws exist,
but I do not know them.
I am watching the wind and the fog
through the branches.
Through petunias and lines of poetry.
On an old cup
something gathers,
and slips inside me.
Poets are good as long as they crack
like fresh asparagus.

26.

26.

V spomin se zapletam,
v čute, in tavam.
Zakoni so,
vendar jih ne poznam.
Opazujem skozi veje,
veter in meglo.
Skozi petunije in verze.
Na stari skodelici
se nekaj nabere
in zdrsne vame.
Pesnik je dober, dokler poka,
kakor špargelj.