Archives for December 7th, 2004

Slovenian poetry will flush your soul.

Poetry International has an impressive collection of contemporary Slovenian poetry, featuring original Slovenian versions and their English translations. To give you a taste of what Slovenian poetry is like, I went through the site’s featured poets, randomly picked one of their poems, and then took out a small excerpt. Here they are all together in one giant poetic pastiche. See if you can notice a pattern:

"I can’t feel. I can only see a crowd of
people who’ve put on t-shirts
that say: I’m nobody. Who are you?"
– Brane MozetiÄ?, They wouldn’t give anything to help me

"Nothing can reach me.
Hell’s visitation is put off. The world
shines like gold shrouded in black."
– UroÅ¡ Zupan, Valium

"I greet you, crippled creature,
am glad you are here
immured day and night,
you cursed extension of the Great Suspicion,
the diabolical belly of inhuman force
which is so feeble that it shudders day and night."
– Edvard Kocbek, Microphone in the Wall

"We are all sick.
Must die,
must die,
can’t bear to suffer,
can’t bear to live."
– SreÄ?ko Kosovel, Disappointments

"Time comes when time is cruel.
Inexorable.
The lips frozen.
Unstirring.
And the tongue, dry from cognition,
plunges into the cavity of
the throat.
Time when you halt.
When you are the ice of your own self.
Your time."
– Dane Zajc, Your Time

"I shuck the black, silky
festival hall of your warm breath,
the impermanence of your life."
– Tomaž Å alamun, To a Golem

"The evening smelt of warm raisin cake.
You were happy.
As you had not been in a long time."
– Meta KuÅ¡ar, 3.

Let it never be said that Slovenes aren’t shiny, happy people.