Inscription, cons.

when I take off my shoes,
moonshine rots in your shoulder.
europe has a new nightgown
now completely alone it walks
at night along the glassy edges of the road.
in your home
pilgrims will pitch today
tents of all its great holidays.
tide is pain for marseille.
something, somebody always
treads before you
the powder snow here at my feet.
in spring I cannot hurry
quite angrily after a prairie.
a dealer will die alone
with a pine cone of snow
on the rug of autumn pine needles
in a hall, a tunnel, a fable,
in his own saddle bags.

so, with the indigo thread
snow hem on the razor blades, sew
on my evening dress all those gray,
gray birds of rock’n’roll. for,

you have a red hair like slovenia.

Posveta, cons;

Posveta, cons;

kada se izujem
mjesečina trune u tvome ramenu.
europa ima novu spavaćicu
noću, sada posve sama
korača staklenim rubovima ceste.
romari će danas
u tvome domu
razapeti šatore svih njenih velikih praznika.
marseilleu je plima bol.
nešto, uvijek netko prije tebe
ugazi meki prštić
tu pred mojim stopama.
u proljeće, za stepom
ja ne mogu tako hudo žuriti.
diler će umrijeti sam
sa šišarkom od snijega
na sagu od jesenjih borovih iglica
u hodniku, tunelu, basni,
u svojim bisagama.

modrim koncima
porubom snijega na britvama, ti mi zato sašij
na večernjoj haljini sve te sive, sive
ptice rock\'n\'rolla. jer,

ti imaš kosu crvenu kao slovenija.