Sinead’s Voice

Sinead’s voice falls into me, impregnating me
as the Holy Spirit impregnated the Virgin Mary.

“Sometimes I am told in commendation  . . .
that my movement perished
under the firing squads
of 1916,” wrote Yeats.

Over half a century later,
in a documentary, I see Ben Bulben,
and at its foot, the poet’s grave
surrounded by the evening halo.

Still fearing my own end
I foretell the end of the world.
Life still scares me.
Restless, my horse still neighs in his stable.

On the other side of the scales
is the voice of Sinead O’Connor,
perfumed like musk,
like amber in which
forever the whale’s death shriek
is captured.

In Sinead’s voice, Yeats’ calm
departure always resounds.

Now it falls into me and impregnates me
like the light of a forgotten
pagan god.

Sineadin glas

Sineadin glas

Sineadin glas pada vame
in me oplaja kot duh devico Marijo.

“Vcasih moram poslušati . . . ,
da je bilo mojega gibanja konec
pred puškami strelskega voda
leta 1916,” je zapisal Yeats.

Vec kot pol stoletja kasneje
sem v nekem dokumentarcu videl Ben Bulben
in pod njim pesnikov grob,
obdan z avreolo vecera.

Še vedno iz strahu pred lastnim koncem
napovedujem konec sveta.
Še vedno me plaši življenje.
Še vedno moj konj nemirno rezgece v hlevu.

Na drugi strani tehtnice
je vokal Sinead O’Connor,
dišec kot mošus,
kot ambra,
v kateri je za vedno shranjen
kitov smrtni krik.

V Sineadinem glasu vedno odmeva
mirni Yeatsov odhod.

Zdaj pada vame in me oplaja
kot luc pozabljenega
poganskega boga.