Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Edvard Kocbek

ANOTHER ABYSS TO CROSS

What a beautiful, sunny, tranquil day;
no pressures, horrors,
acquaintances or spies.
Bursting with health I am aching from the beauty
of exquisite bodies and kind faces
that draw me back to paganism, fetishism
and ancient myths evoked from
the wailing substance of every beautiful being.
But at nightfall an ineffable memory
quietly stalks me, I resist it,
waiting for the conflict
and finally, I carry myself
as a horse does the wounded.
The people around me are proud of their fears,
talking about their minor wounds,
but nobody notices my open side.
I bleed all night, writing on walls
with my own blood the ancient story of my origin,
while their tales fill the pages of books.
There is nothing on earth more devastating than a woman
you make love to one night only,
and can never find again.

Tudi cez ta prepad moram

Tudi cez ta prepad moram

Kakšen lep, soncen, miren dan,
nobenega pritiska m grozljivosti,
nobenega znanca ali vohuna,
zdrav sem in ves bolec od lepote
lepih teles in prijaznih obrazov,
zacel sem ljubiti poganstvo, fetiše
in prastare mite, ki jih vsako lepo
bitje priklice iz cakajocih stvari.
Le proti veceru se mi oglasi neizrekljivi
spomin in mi tiho sledi, upiram se mu
in cakam na spopad in nazadnje samega
sebe nosim kakor konj ranjenca.
Vsi okoli mene so ponosni na strahove,
vsi govorijo o svojih smešnih ranah,
moje odprte strani pa nihce ne opazi,
vso noc krvavim in si zapisujem s krvjo
na steno svoje prastaro poreklo,
njihove basni pa migotajo v knjigah.
Nic pošastnejšega ni od deklice,
Ki jo ljubiš eno samo noc
In je nikoli vec ne morec najti.
Close

ANOTHER ABYSS TO CROSS

What a beautiful, sunny, tranquil day;
no pressures, horrors,
acquaintances or spies.
Bursting with health I am aching from the beauty
of exquisite bodies and kind faces
that draw me back to paganism, fetishism
and ancient myths evoked from
the wailing substance of every beautiful being.
But at nightfall an ineffable memory
quietly stalks me, I resist it,
waiting for the conflict
and finally, I carry myself
as a horse does the wounded.
The people around me are proud of their fears,
talking about their minor wounds,
but nobody notices my open side.
I bleed all night, writing on walls
with my own blood the ancient story of my origin,
while their tales fill the pages of books.
There is nothing on earth more devastating than a woman
you make love to one night only,
and can never find again.

ANOTHER ABYSS TO CROSS

What a beautiful, sunny, tranquil day;
no pressures, horrors,
acquaintances or spies.
Bursting with health I am aching from the beauty
of exquisite bodies and kind faces
that draw me back to paganism, fetishism
and ancient myths evoked from
the wailing substance of every beautiful being.
But at nightfall an ineffable memory
quietly stalks me, I resist it,
waiting for the conflict
and finally, I carry myself
as a horse does the wounded.
The people around me are proud of their fears,
talking about their minor wounds,
but nobody notices my open side.
I bleed all night, writing on walls
with my own blood the ancient story of my origin,
while their tales fill the pages of books.
There is nothing on earth more devastating than a woman
you make love to one night only,
and can never find again.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère