Kako je z upanjem
V pokrajini, v njenih vse večjih zevih,
smo izginjali ljudje
vseh starosti.
Držali smo se na previsih, ne skupaj, vsak zase
smo odpadali s svoje celine,
iz sebe,
ponekod so visele še samo raznobarvne kože.
Zdrznilo me je: je to ta
konec, se tako neha želja,
ko je hrepenenje brezupno,
in ko iztegajoči se
v fatamorgani vidimo
mir,
zaljubljenost,
smisel,
mladost?
Vendarle mi je čisto blizu prišel afriški slon,
the weakest one, sem slišala v Ugandi,
brez družine,
odrinjen iz prihodnosti
se ni menil za dogajanje okoli sebe,
za nas, oprijemajoče se.
Med hojo v savani je goltal,
kar je ostalo od listja na stanjšanih baobabih,
ki so predolgo brez vode.
Hkrati je nenavadno nežno ovijal z rilcem,
h plapolajočim uhljem bi šla v objem,
kot počasni posnetek je bilo njegovo odločno,
a težko premikanje.
Ne opazi me, sem pomislila,
takrat še nisem videla oči - neprepričljivo veličastne
- terjajo pozornost, sočutje,
četudi ju tisti hip potrebujemo sami.
Živost v neprodušni osamljenosti sem našla,
nisem vedela, za kaj gre-
in če bi to lahko bilo celo celjenje.
What About Hope
Across the landscape, in its ever-widening gapes,
we, people of all ages,
are vanishing.
We cling to the overhangs, not together, each alone,
falling from our continents,
from ourselves,
in some places, only multi-colored skins still hung on.
I shudder, wondering is this
the end, does desire die away like this
when longing is hopeless,
and when, reaching out,
we see in a mirage,
peace,
love,
meaning,
youth?
Still, an African elephant draws close to me—
the weakest one, I’d heard in Uganda,
bereft of family,
cast adrift from the future,
untouched by what unravels around him,
by us, clinging on.
As he walks the savannah, he devours
what is left of the leaves on the parched baobabs,
long without water.
At the same time, he swings his trunk with unusual gentleness.
I long to be embraced by the delicate flutter of his ear,
his determined, yet labored movement
unfolding in slow motion.
He hasn’t noticed me, I imagine,
for our eyes have yet to meet – his eyes, unconvincingly
magnificent - are demanding attention, compassion,
as if those needs were his alone.
I find a strange vitality in that impenetrable loneliness,
though I don’t know what it means -
or whether it could ever be healing
(Translated from the Slovenian by Martha Kosir)
