FIRE OF PUMAS
PUMA OF MIND
In the black jungle silver animal. In the
silver jungle black animal. Puma-gum,
jump and rage. It crashes a wood,
intersects a neck. Flicks into the stuff, opens a shaft.
Inculcates a flash, inserts a day, incuses a palm.
Palm-tree: bleak plain. Thought, swish. Steely
shining through. Plate between teeth. Rotten stone,
the smell of wine, foamy squirt, outflow
of suffering, snaky flying-up to the visibility,
vulture in a sunny dog, which yelps: »I hope!«
SWEET FRUITS OF WAR
In the great war he slaughtered many
beings that are half man, half puma.
Then rewards: fame, richness,
power. But a killer always
becomes similar to person killed. The man
was possessed of fear: »What if they smell
a puma inside me?« He became a harbinger
of peace and love. He killed his brother
when that said to him: »What
a peace? All your essence is a gift of war!«
Meadow behind the church, forest
behind the meadow. In the church never anyone,
yet sometimes it rings. In conflagration,
a karst meadow smells of pumas scent:
falling shag mowed by the trident.
Also the forest is the meadow, only the blades
are greater. Byblos, papyrus, a book
of grass. Liber, wine of freedom.
The grass sings when it dies. The sea murmurs
in it. Door of grasses, of stove. The fire-gift.
Translated from Slovenian by author