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Shame and misfortune
to see this tree decay.
My sweet bird of paradise!
Nine pairs of hands holding me up.
The past unpicks and rebuilds me.
My invisibility is safe.
And my holy day,
slipping into the first ray of sunlight.
Into the whole house, resting in my eyes.
With the plume of the bird of paradise.
It is no different in a poem.
Leaves are renewed.
Trnovo and the palaces.
The river and the evenings in the willows.
Rustling stars, brush against the scalpels
so that their blades gush with blue cotton
to heal the dead.
So children have ancestors.
Love, be here!

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1.

Sramota in nesreča
kako drevo propada.
Mila moja rajska ptica!
Devet parov rok me odriva in drži.
Preteklost me razdira in zgradi.
Moja nevidnost je varna.
In praznik,
ki zdrsne v prvi žarek.
V zrno. V cimet. V med.
V celo hišo in v očeh zastane.
S peresom rajske ptice.
V pesmi ni nič drugače.
Liste obnavlja.
Trnovo in palače.
Reko in večer v vrbju.
O, šumeče zvezde. Oplazite skalpele,
da bo iz konic švistnila modra vata,
ki ozdravi mrtve.
Da bodo otroci imeli prednike.
Ljubezen, prikaži se!