HOROSKOP

Mrtvi otroci v trenutku odrastejo,

a nikoli zares.

Včasih pogrešajo otroške izkušnje,

včasih pa sploh ne vedo,

kaj bi lahko pogrešali.

 

Občutljivi so za mraz in sploh za

spremembe, predvsem pa so prestrašeni,

zato so v stalni pripravljenosti

in strahopetnosti jih je sram.

Najbolj se sramujejo svojih razpadajočih

teles, ki jih potlačijo v sanje,

in lahko so prav lepi na prvi pogled.

 

Ugrablja jih ljubezen, lepota in strast,

a veselje nikoli.

Prepričani so, da je vsega kriv trenutek

nepazljivosti v otroškem veselju.

Pretvarjajo se, da bi jih ljudje obdržali,

toda s svojo žalostjo uničujejo

svoje otroke in vsakogar, ki jih ljubi.

 

Nikomur ne zaupajo, da bo ostal,

in odraslim ne zaupajo,

da sploh kaj vedo, kar lahko

nekatere razdraži.

Kadar ne vedo, da so mrtvi,

se težko odločajo ali učijo,

vedo pa, da znajo leteti.

 

Še najmanj zaupajo sebi.

Premikajo se počasi, v stalni

nevarnosti, da bodo za zmeraj odšli.

Preutrujeni so, da bi se bali smrti,

a ni jih na svetu, ki bi tako

brezupno radi pripadali sem.

HOROSCOPE

Dead children grow up in an instant,

but never quite.

At times they yearn for childhood,

and at times they no longer know

what there is to yearn for.

 

They are sensitive to cold, to change,

but most of all, to fear.

They live in constant vigilance,

ashamed of their cowardice.

Most of all, ashamed of their decaying bodies,

which they bury in dreams.

At first glance, they appear almost beautiful.

 

They fall captive to love, to beauty, to desire,

but never to joy.

They believe it all unraveled in a single

careless moment of childhood happiness.

They pretend, just to be held by others,

yet their sorrow consumes

their children and all who love them.

 

They trust no one to stay,

no grown-up to understand,

and that can irritate some.

When they forget they are dead,

they falter at choices,

stumble at learning,

though they know they can fly.

 

Least of all, they trust themselves.

They move slowly, always in danger

of vanishing forever.

Too weary to fear death,

and yet, no one in the world

longs more hopelessly to belong.

(Translated from the Slovenian by Martha Kosir)

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OTROK I / CHILD I