Mushi, mushi

/, Blesok no. 51/Mushi, mushi

Mushi, mushi

The world

Translated by: Jure Novak

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.

AuthorMilan Dekleva
2018-08-21T17:23:11+00:00 November 27th, 2006|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 51|0 Comments