Yes, I belong to those who were once under the spell
of blood. And wild animals leaping from Utopian scenes
into life to leave a mark on the hunter. And people
shaped by the age of crime and restless sleep.
I’m not saying the roar of the underground river I used
to sail attracts me anymore. I’m not saying that at all.
But the wound which condemned me to lordly solitude
has changed form. Once I was one, now I’m a tribe.
And the anguish of a boat setting off from shore inspires me
only in a mirror. I see myself only in the trembling
of a small body conjured by the sweet confusion of my desire.
I humbly praise this joy: how you show me where to receive
the gift of manna. I serve your breath redolent of milk.
I don’t sleep at night so day will shine more truly.
Translated by: Aleš Debeljak & Christopher Merrill