print preview
Slovenščinaback ALEŠ DEBELJAK
translation from the Slovene by Brian Henry
Yesterday a House, Today Nothing
Prule district, Ljubljana
In a slow unsyncopated rhythm I pass a house
with one window. I go, I go, I stop. From its huge pane
it summons me: a dark spot, as wide as a cap.
I read about it in an ancient Polish tale. I waver,
lick my nails, watch, weigh my chances: it is a good target,
if not for the stone I throw, then for my landing. It will be
an emergency landing, I can see that, happy to accept this.
What matters is that I get in and fold my parachute, blow away
breadcrumbs and light a fire with my hair. Personal sacrifice
and collective safety. It really burns, but I’m not against it,
not at all. It was burning in the room, a modest drawing room.
A woman in middle age, who had studied piano playing
in London, doled out evergreen melodies, irregular verbs
and slaps, which rang long. Still resounding in my head,
they echo and vanish like smoke when in a slow
unsyncopated rhythm I pass the house. 
Contributor’s notes: Aleš Debeljak
Contributor’s notes: Brian Henry
Schoolboy’s Blues
When You Get Out of Prison
Yesterday a House, Today Nothing