Lives Journal 9

Andrej Kokot

 

BRIDGE

 

GRASS IN MAY

 

The grass in May

is high and proud;

it knows

it is the image of spring.

 

It waits patiently

for the morning dew

and falls over the scythe

into the glittering brightness

under the sun.

 

The grass in May

goes to its death ceremoniously.

It knows when its time has come.

 

 

 

BRIDGE

 

Someone came

and ordered:

BE A BRIDGE!

And I became a bridge.

Men and gods

traversed my concrete ribs

and trod my bent back.

In time

my strength diminished,

step by step,

until it was no more.

 

Yet my crooked girders

straightened themselves

and I was a man again.

Now I avoid mankind.

I fear I'll be ordered

to be a bridge.

 

 

Translated from Slovenian by Herbert Kuhner and Peter Kersche

 

 

 

Slovenian (bohorichica)

Slovenian (gajica)