Lives Journal 2

Janko Ferk 

 

WOMEN'S CREMATORIUM

 

 

now i write

 

on the long way

through the city

i transcribe

from the rows of houses

 

choirs in another light

i spell pout

the all-encompassing essence

of the songs

 

but the only thing

i want to hear

is

my own echo

the soloist's voice

 

 

 

memory

 

in a dream

i saw

meadows

pastures and fields

people

wheat

flowers and grass

my grandfather

reaping

and my grandmother

with food and a pitcher

 

when i

woke up

i walked

through

the fields

found

a rusty spoon

between the furrows

and thought of

my grandfather

 

 

 

a stone

 

i'll tell

a stone

of my loneliness

and it will

show me

its heart

and invite me

to be

its brother

to be

a stone

and it will

promise

moss

to me

and eternal life

 

 

 

Women's Crematorium

 

conscience

whipped to death

 

the child

dead in the womb

the withered spirit

 

 drinks,

 the blood

 of the obviated mother.

 

a piece

of wild flesh

gallops

to its death

 

 

 

Translated from Slovenian by Herbert Kuhner

 

 

 

Slovenian (gajica)

Slovenian (bohorichica)