Poem
Meta Kušar
51.
Pride is no devil,only Lucifer’s wand
showing who will
bid what.
When judgements slip, light shifts.
In your lap you again see grains you have already husked.
It is easier to find fire in flint
than a path through stars.
Father said:
Your hands are a farmer’s hands.
He kissed them and died.
© Translation: 2004, Ana Jelnikar & Stephen Watts
51.
51.
Napuh ni hudič,samo paličica Luciferja je,
ki pokaže,
kje bo kdo stavil.
Ko razsodnost zdrsne, se luč prestavi.
V naročju spet zagledaš zrnje, ki si ga že luščil.
Lažje je najti ogenj v kremenu,
kakor pot v zvezdah.
Oče je rekel:
Roke imaš kot kmetica.
Poljubil jih je in umrl.
© 2004, Meta Kušar
Poems
Poems of Meta Kušar
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51.
Pride is no devil,only Lucifer’s wand
showing who will
bid what.
When judgements slip, light shifts.
In your lap you again see grains you have already husked.
It is easier to find fire in flint
than a path through stars.
Father said:
Your hands are a farmer’s hands.
He kissed them and died.
© 2004, Ana Jelnikar & Stephen Watts
51.
Pride is no devil,only Lucifer’s wand
showing who will
bid what.
When judgements slip, light shifts.
In your lap you again see grains you have already husked.
It is easier to find fire in flint
than a path through stars.
Father said:
Your hands are a farmer’s hands.
He kissed them and died.
© 2004, Ana Jelnikar & Stephen Watts
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