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ISSN 1409-6900 | UDK 82+7     Blesok no. 74 | volume XIII | September-October, 2010



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                     Peer-reviewed journal
Blesok no. 74September-October, 2010
Poetry

Well

Translated by John Minahane


/6
p. 2
Ján Ondruš

Black white
Stone
Summer Rain
Ash
Well
Martha

_______________________________________________________________________

Stone

Alone
in the clash of our faces,
splintering, a hatchet
hung on a kiss,
I mark you with love,
with a thought cancelled-out, a yawn,
I'm going,
I'll swing off on the house door,
I'll be gone on a growing branch,
I'll fly by the wringing of hands,
because, look,
wine is of you,
gall is of me,
comb's about you,
hatchet's of me,
fire's about you,
ash is of me,
about you is every
evening with the lunar
levitation of magic in our heads,
about me is midnight, or dawn and return
when I twist my head under my armpit,
I sleep and shut eyes about you,
about you is the nightingale,
about me is the dog
who barks all of that,
barks that about me,
barks the reverse,
when in wringing of hands
I gather breath, anguish, scream,
I leave between us the distance of mouths
and thus from afar
I mark you with love,
with a thought cancelled-out, a yawn,
to the verge even of stone, which
is about me, in which yes is and no
and where the head can be banged.






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