Lives Journal 4

Matej Krajnc






Nobody sends for Reconciliation.

This world runs

From situation to situation

With no sense of fun.


One day it's whey

And then dichotomy.

There's something to eat every day.

Every day is not to be


On the way downstairs to the cellar

Of some urgency.

It takes its shoes off


And leaves. Nonchalantly.

The situation takes revenge.

We hiccup seriously.






Slabs move.

Walls move, too.

Everything's getting old,

But umbrellas are still new.


Asthmatic doorkeepers

Still watch their own.

Somebody passes with milk and bread

All alone.


Nostradamus unfolds

His mantle.

There's still a bite left from lunch.


While watching Yentl

He'll prophesy again

And draw his maps of our bitter end.






The whistle of the dusk

Calls the wind of penitence.

He doesn't go any further,

not a glance.


But further on

There's an abandoned depot.

And I see Anka there.

She's up and ready to go.


She's still walking,

But not across the field.

The dusk growls, but not until


it stabs her a few shallow stars,

mercilessly, au pair.

She doesn't care.




Version in English language by Matej Krajnc




Slovenian (gajica)

Slovenian (bohorichica)