Poem
Meta Kušar
8.
Nature’s still, spirit walks about.Under the chestnut trees and through time.
Along a shoulder to the neck.
Down an arm and onto paper.
I am losing my bearings.
For years now the acoustics
of my garden have been falling apart.
The premises are perfect, even if in hock.
My debts have defended these roots.
I repayed them with facts
the winners were unable
to make idols of.
© Translation: 2004, Ana Jelnikar & Stephen Watts
8.
8.
Narava stoji, duh pa se sprehaja.Pod kostanji in skozi čas.
Po rami, do vratu.
Po roki na papir.
Ne znajdem se.
Dolga leta se je akustika
mojega vrta kvarila.
Prostori so odlični, čeprav zastavljeni.
Moji dolgovi so branili izvire.
Poplačala sem jih z dejstvi,
ki jih zmagovalci niso mogli
malikovati.
© 2004, Meta Kušar
Poems
Poems of Meta Kušar
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8.
Nature’s still, spirit walks about.Under the chestnut trees and through time.
Along a shoulder to the neck.
Down an arm and onto paper.
I am losing my bearings.
For years now the acoustics
of my garden have been falling apart.
The premises are perfect, even if in hock.
My debts have defended these roots.
I repayed them with facts
the winners were unable
to make idols of.
© 2004, Ana Jelnikar & Stephen Watts
8.
Nature’s still, spirit walks about.Under the chestnut trees and through time.
Along a shoulder to the neck.
Down an arm and onto paper.
I am losing my bearings.
For years now the acoustics
of my garden have been falling apart.
The premises are perfect, even if in hock.
My debts have defended these roots.
I repayed them with facts
the winners were unable
to make idols of.
© 2004, Ana Jelnikar & Stephen Watts
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