Priznanje
Na njenem telesu je ležala bomba,
malo nad prsnim košem,
vzdolž telesa do sramne kosti,
jemala ji je dih.
Rekla je, da ne bo zmogla,
da je vsega preveč, da želi umreti.
Imela je vročino,
bila je priklenjena na posteljo –
tako kot na bivanje v Sloveniji
od pričetka vojne v Ukrajini.
Tudi meni je zmanjkovalo sape.
Bomba je imela glas,
ki je segal v čas pred vojno,
k zlorabljajoči preteklosti,
k podobam očetovih pesti.
V sobi je bila bomba,
skoraj tako resnična
kot tiste, ki uničujejo mesta.
Ni bilo mogoče drugače z njo,
kot ji priznati obstoj.
Skupaj sva jo pazljivo držali.
Dokler ni teža popustila.
Admission
A bomb rested on her body.
She could feel its weight
from her chest to the pubic bone,
stealing her breath.
She said she couldn't bear it,
that it was all too much, that she wanted to die.
Fever consumed her.
she was confined to bed -
as she had been to Slovenia,
since the war in Ukraine began.
I, too, struggled for air.
The bomb had a voice
that carried us back before the war,
to the years of abuse,
to the image of her father’s fists.
There was a bomb in the room,
almost as real
as those that turn cities into ash.
There was no other way
but to acknowledge its weight.
Together, we cradled it gently,
until it began to lift.
(Translated from the Slovenian by Martha Kosir)
