Lives Journal 11

Ivo Antich



(two triptychs)





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!«






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




Slovenian (gajica)

Slovenian (bohorichica)