Poem
Meta Kušar
25.
Stars huddle into tears which smear a cardigan.How many stars !
They plummet into the dream-garden under the castle,
and in the mornings we gather them in bucket-fulls.
They turn to blueberries, kisses, hot-cross buns,
into the poetic dust which falls on suffering,
on future plans and on pianos.
Not that many poems breathe.
Some days are more here than others.
© Translation: 2004, Ana Jelnikar & Stephen Watts
25.
25.
Zvezde se nagnetejo v solze in popacajo jopo.Koliko zvezd!
Na sanjskem vrtu pod Gradom se utrinjajo,
zjutraj jih naberemo polne pladnje.
Spreminjajo se v borovnice, objeme, buhteljne,
v poetični prah, ki pade po trpljenju,
po načrtih in klavirju.
Samo neke pesmi dihajo.
En dan je bolj resničen od drugega.
© 2004, Meta Kušar
Poems
Poems of Meta Kušar
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25.
Stars huddle into tears which smear a cardigan.How many stars !
They plummet into the dream-garden under the castle,
and in the mornings we gather them in bucket-fulls.
They turn to blueberries, kisses, hot-cross buns,
into the poetic dust which falls on suffering,
on future plans and on pianos.
Not that many poems breathe.
Some days are more here than others.
© 2004, Ana Jelnikar & Stephen Watts
25.
Stars huddle into tears which smear a cardigan.How many stars !
They plummet into the dream-garden under the castle,
and in the mornings we gather them in bucket-fulls.
They turn to blueberries, kisses, hot-cross buns,
into the poetic dust which falls on suffering,
on future plans and on pianos.
Not that many poems breathe.
Some days are more here than others.
© 2004, Ana Jelnikar & Stephen Watts
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