Two translations of the Slovenian poet Tomaž Šalamun
Cooing Knocks Down Palm Trees
I imagine my mouth stretched out
for the last time on this mountain.
Flower driver—joy in a helmet.
Flower driver—a man on
handlebars. An old man drives
up the stairs, the hill
strives for the street.
Chains are
spread by sparrowhawks,
Schopenhauer’s
lake. I’m going to sleep now.
I’m going into the earth
now. O, cherries! The universe
is fond of you.
Gruljenje Podira Palme
Umišljam si usta stegovíto,
zadnjič na tej planini.
Šofer rož—veselje v čeladi.
Šofer rož—mož na
balanci. Po stopnicah
vozi starček, za
ulico se peha hrib.
Verige so
namazane s skobci,
Shopenhauerjevo
jezero. Zdaj grem spat.
Zdaj grem v
zemljo. O, češnjevci! Vesolje
vam je naklonjeno.
Phoenix
The secret is to be apart, outside.
This is the only secret of blue stones,
history, weight and the sips of an animal.
To buy shoes and throw them under the waterfall.
To camp: lapis lazuli.
I say goodbye to your coverage.
I imagine that I am seventy selves
divided into thirty-five piles
with my feet a meter apart, together with my head.
I am a museum of weapons, a museum of halberds.
They tie me around the neck with raffia.
So that I don’t freeze, a guard guards me.
The scream is thrust into the rubbish and
burns the parquet with oil.
When birds take off, they kill them with their fists.
It’s all on their side: the ceiling, the spectators.
Blood is eternal.
Feniks
Skrivnost je biti narazen, ven.
To je edina skrivnost modrih kamnov,
zgodovine, teže in požirkov živali.
Kupiti čevlje in jih vreči pod slap.
Taboriti: lapis lazuli.
Poslavljam se od tvojega kritja.
Predstavljam si, da sem jaz sedemdeset jazov,
razdeljenih na petintrideset kopic,
z nogami meter narazen, z glavo skupaj.
Jaz sem muzej orožja, muzej helebard.
Z rafijo me vežejo okrog vratu.
Da ne zamrznem, me čuva čuvaj.
Vreščé se zarinejo v ropotijo in
požigajo parket z oljem.
Ko vzletavajo ptiči, jih pobijajo s pestjo.
Vse je na njihovi strani: strop, gledalci.
Kri je večna.
Tomaž Šalamun (1941-2014) published more than 50 books of poetry in Slovenia. Translated into over 25 languages, his poetry received numerous awards, including the Jenko Prize, the Prešeren Prize, the European Prize for Poetry, and the Mladost Prize. In the 1990s, he served for several years as the Cultural Attaché for the Slovenian Embassy in New York, and later held visiting professorships at various universities in the U.S.
Brian Henry is the author of eleven books of poetry, most recently Permanent State (Threadsuns, 2020), and the prose book Things Are Completely Simple: Poetry and Translation (Parlor, 2022). He has translated Tomaž Šalamun’s Woods and Chalices (Harcourt, 2008), Aleš Debeljak’s Smugglers (BOA Editions, 2015), and five books by Aleš Šteger. His work has received numerous honors, including two NEA fellowships, the Alice Fay di Castagnola Award, a Howard Foundation fellowship, and the Best Translated Book Award.