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Meta Kušar

38.


Under the castle in a sway of elder
the day gently rocks.
Heart withdrawn into conflict.
Sensual words protect arches and baldachinos,
now that brawling faces lash
out at the homeland.
Such thieves of beauty don’t know
that a god’s line is never straight.

38.

38.

Pod gradom se v bezgovem zraku
ziblje dan.
Srce se umika v spopad.
Čutne besede zavarujejo oboke in baldahine,
ta čas ko skregani obrazi skačejo
naravnost v domovino.
Kradljivci lepote ne vedo,
da Božja črta ni nikoli ravna.
Meta  Kušar

Meta Kušar

(Slovenië, 1952)

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38.

Pod gradom se v bezgovem zraku
ziblje dan.
Srce se umika v spopad.
Čutne besede zavarujejo oboke in baldahine,
ta čas ko skregani obrazi skačejo
naravnost v domovino.
Kradljivci lepote ne vedo,
da Božja črta ni nikoli ravna.

38.


Under the castle in a sway of elder
the day gently rocks.
Heart withdrawn into conflict.
Sensual words protect arches and baldachinos,
now that brawling faces lash
out at the homeland.
Such thieves of beauty don’t know
that a god’s line is never straight.
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