Blesok no. 51, November-December, 2006

Mushi, mushi
Translated by: Jure Novak

Milan Dekleva


No trails.
The dry, glassy sand.
What silence!

Rhythms of the sun.
Of never-finished worlds.
Of vanishings.

Honey on top
the sound in paradise hollow.
No flames, no birds.

In evening’s rain
an apparition's moan. How quiet
and soft, the breath of guitars.

Eye-lid vibration.
An evening song of streets
empty of children.

string; may I pluck you gently
with your accord?

I touch you
to the same music’s blossom,
the same world’s sway.

Taut skin
touched by air. A palm
ringing eternity.

The fan of harp-strings.
A waterfall of erect forces, a blinding
passion of calm.

A modulation
of your moves. I get up,
the music goes silent.


Fall to my grounded
feet, slim tree,
and outgrow me.

Open the door.
Come evening, I have no eyes
so I come through the wall.

Let us be fire,
a barefoot thought
desires us – ash.

Fuming waters.
Body, release, sail
past my arms.

You come by darkness,
the air a razor, your
breasts a wound.

Yearning, you
stop nowhere. The night
is full of seed.

Cigarettes &
lips. A body in heat
plays with smoke.

I call you flower and
you wither in my arms.
The silence like dew.

The breath of your feet.
Softly, the grass
rises after them.

The world

Suddenly. The wind of
cherry branches vibrates
a thought. No – a bird!

A ridged bird.
Unbolted by wind.
Who opens the door?

Swollen atoms.
An eruption of energy. I am bound
by explosion.

A sparkle of light
the blurred face
written in mirrors.

Through an open
sky, the call of angels &
the silence of snow.

The bitter scent of fruit
is not lost. Autumn
falls away.

A network of signals.
The rifle’s steel instills
the fear of death in birds.

Fragile worlds
play in emptiness.
Flashes through darkness.

Words have fallen
asleep in silence’s heart.
No trails.

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