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Gedicht

Srečko Kosovel

Close To Midnight

Close to midnight.
Flies dying in a glass.
The fire has died out.
Fair Vida, there is
sorrow in your memory.
Stravinsky in a car.
The roaring of the sea.
Oh, to be alone for 5 minutes.
The heart-Trieste is ill.
That is why Trieste is beautiful.
Pain blossoms in beauty.

BLIZU POLNOCI

BLIZU POLNOCI

Blizu polnoci.
Muhe v casi umirajo.
Ogenj je ugasnil.
Lepa Vida, bridkost je
v tvojem spominu.
Stravinski v avtomobilu.
Bucanje morja.
O biti 5 minut sam.
Srce-Trst je bolno.
Zato je Trst lep.
Bolecina cvete v lepoti.
Srečko  Kosovel

Srečko Kosovel

(Slovenië, 1904)

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BLIZU POLNOCI

Blizu polnoci.
Muhe v casi umirajo.
Ogenj je ugasnil.
Lepa Vida, bridkost je
v tvojem spominu.
Stravinski v avtomobilu.
Bucanje morja.
O biti 5 minut sam.
Srce-Trst je bolno.
Zato je Trst lep.
Bolecina cvete v lepoti.

Close To Midnight

Close to midnight.
Flies dying in a glass.
The fire has died out.
Fair Vida, there is
sorrow in your memory.
Stravinsky in a car.
The roaring of the sea.
Oh, to be alone for 5 minutes.
The heart-Trieste is ill.
That is why Trieste is beautiful.
Pain blossoms in beauty.
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