Ivan Dobnik - 3

what is it like
the multiplied silence in the eye of an animal about to die

the bible of air and earth, water and fire
open, in the palm of a man who found his way onto your lips

and a wave
and the wave that brings the sunny foam to your eyes

when you do what water does
to flow, not to pause, to keep searching for an exit and persist

in the long, tranquil glide of a narrow-eyed buzzard
to come closer to the body, the rustle of summer, the upright midday hour

for the door to open, a passage
for a blank piece of paper to open

and a wave, in perfect silence
and a wave of wilderness, a snowed-in morning, the fragrant green of the guilder rose in spring

then the reeds sway
the fingers of the wind lean into an ear

Translated by Tadeja Spruk