Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Barbara Korun

Towers of Karst

Noon embraced me
around the waist,
black traces of earth
on my white skin.

A red heart of flesh
pulsed, pulsed
beneath the horizon;
a small mouth
gulping, gulping
voraciously.

Out of the dark sun
a tear fell, smarting,
onto the white rock
into the rock cleft,
into two, into three.

A lizard flicked
into a crevice of the heart,
tickled the sky’s aorta;
beneath a red-hot vulva
a key blazed,
a white flash.

In a magic circle
beneath the horizon of happiness
in a thicket of underground waters
in the twilight of desire
a child lay sleeping.

Kraški stolpovi

Kraški stolpovi

poldne me je objelo
čez pas in mi na beli koži
pustilo črno sled prsti

pod obzorjem je
utripalo utripalo
meseno rdeče srce
je odpiralo svoja usteca
in požiralo požiralo
nenasitno

iz temnega sonca
je spadnula solza skeleča
na beli kamen
in kamen se je razklal
na dvoje na troje

martinček se je skril v
srčno razpoko in z repkom
poščegetal zaklopke neba
pod razbeljeno vulvo
je blisnil ključ
bleščeče bel

v čarobnem risu
pod horizontom sreče
v gošči podzemnih voda
je v polmraku poželenja
spal otrok
Close

Towers of Karst

Noon embraced me
around the waist,
black traces of earth
on my white skin.

A red heart of flesh
pulsed, pulsed
beneath the horizon;
a small mouth
gulping, gulping
voraciously.

Out of the dark sun
a tear fell, smarting,
onto the white rock
into the rock cleft,
into two, into three.

A lizard flicked
into a crevice of the heart,
tickled the sky’s aorta;
beneath a red-hot vulva
a key blazed,
a white flash.

In a magic circle
beneath the horizon of happiness
in a thicket of underground waters
in the twilight of desire
a child lay sleeping.

Towers of Karst

Noon embraced me
around the waist,
black traces of earth
on my white skin.

A red heart of flesh
pulsed, pulsed
beneath the horizon;
a small mouth
gulping, gulping
voraciously.

Out of the dark sun
a tear fell, smarting,
onto the white rock
into the rock cleft,
into two, into three.

A lizard flicked
into a crevice of the heart,
tickled the sky’s aorta;
beneath a red-hot vulva
a key blazed,
a white flash.

In a magic circle
beneath the horizon of happiness
in a thicket of underground waters
in the twilight of desire
a child lay sleeping.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère