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ISSN 1409-6900 | UDK 82+7     Blesok no. 106 | volume  | March-April, 2016



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SLOVOKULT.DE
KRUG
BALKANI
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                     Peer-reviewed journal
Blesok no. 106March-April, 2016
Poetry

Poetry

Translated from Slovenian by the author and Andrew Zawacki


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p. 2
Aleš Debeljak

The Promise
To My Few Friends
Before a Throne
A Sunday Dilemma

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To My Few Friends

    Above the herd of white cities and above
    the fires that frame them, a scarlet kite
    appears for a moment, guided by a child’s hand.
    Come. Just follow me. It isn’t far to where
    you will have a view of ripened fruit
    as it remains, lying in wet grass:
    the order must have been fulfilled.
    Unbearable, yet necessary, like the horizon
    that dams the light ad softens
    the defeat of human shadow.
    You too will lie, it’s your habit.
    Here you will count your handshakes
    with the neighbors, errors in the language
    and a horror of runaway troops, the biography
    of castle walls, of streets and public squares,
    saliva, heartbeat, sinew, semen,
    some murals and portraits, forgettable
    decrees. Come. Follow me. Here you will
    shiver like I shiver, in labor and in love:
    it is easy to live without memory, but not
    without the legacy of what runs in the veins.
    For now I pray apart, but I don’t want
    to kneel in private forever – come,
    follow me, since no one would dare
    to go there alone, in stammering
    and drizzle, even for a little while,
    evaporating out of the visible world.






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