Wooden Swing Blueprints

Barbara Korun


On the night of the summer black

I stepped out into the garden
to pick a flower for you -

he shook the leaves on my face, repelling
stubborn,
scratched with its thorns.


Now you look at the corner of the house,
I'm still there and I feel



shake the rose in my hand,
is hot, black blood flows

darkness.


*


Two Of

I.

that god is huge and heavy

gone so far

angel from heaven with a powerful
an angel whispering in my ear bud

bent over me, and I whispered shining



all the way so many years lost

destroyed everything you have is this moment

this only when you whisper
're nothing nothing
powder forgettable
and I love you I love you



angel angel
with a sprout pierces my heart burning



II.


this God is dwelling in the darkness from under


from inside the golden robes of icons
by dark veins pulsing

is lit by candles on

thin hair


this god lives in the holy
underground rivers
entries in temporary
and faith

rises in the sky directly


with a fragile breath
with the softest breeze
speaks to me


*



white room A room, then, a white room ,
light walls washed with lime,
white panels, wood floor naked
there is a bed in this empty room
and, in the distance, two bags of garbage. Through the window fully open

breaks the smell of the pines.

The song of the cicadas flying away.
One bed in this room, this white room,
a couple is sitting there in the broken white robe,
looking toward the sky so blue
they are drowning in the distance.
Feet, hips, hearts are touching -
but their eyes are turned towards the high blue
, were kidnapped in the infinite.
This is like the touch of anime, as they go

each other under the skin and deeper still.

I cover, in one piece?
find shelter here?

Here in the quiet, silence
in their souls to each other, linked
filament light.
There are models of the rainbow on the ceiling
milky
soft explosions of color.

There's something softer than the tips of your fingers?
What flavor are your lips?
Let me taste your heartbeat, let me
feel the flow of blood in your veins.

I'd stop here for hours motionless in silence, just listening
.

The world breaks in the white area of \u200b\u200bthe South. All
withdraws, only your close
ever closer, ever more present and yes,
it is powerful, yes, I'm too afraid, so I'm

careful not to hurt you, not to hurt me.

Slowly now, no need to hurry,
the time he retired, the space falls away,
now there is only you.
Like this, the opening of the sea before Moses.
Like this, the opening of world before me.
Everything pulsates in your body,
that beats in your heart.
Let me be even closer, let me
be deeply, completely into you. Let me be you.

And then the miracle. In a word, a touch,
you take me in your shadow of the moon. Can I watch
through the undergrowth of your groin,
rest in the soft nest of your navel,
I can lick the hollow of your arms like a deer licking her cub,
can I touch your ears small,
can pierce my tongue in your spiral heart.
gentle shaking chills my body, too,
I can taste your every perception, every thought.
membrane expands and bursts of solitude,
are submerged in your order.

What a wonderful playground, your body,
a surprise at every step. We are like children playing
each other, playing in the endless sea.
not worry yet. No shame again.
Everything here is one: you himself, myself, the sea, the sea.


*


breathing together


You can reach me anywhere

deep as you can;

in pleasure, in pain


slips away from you;

in language, in the words
,
here

you breathing inside me, I inhale
entirely.


*

Birth of an angel

I gave birth to a swelling on my breast, my third breast
want hidden under scarves and shawls. It hurts like it came from.
He helped me with his big hands, he peels the faces of souls.
I saw a small creature, the size of a fist, covered everywhere,
white and sticky. You have to let it dry, he said, warming
the creature in his big fingers. I can see how this
be very little was taken with much larger wings
himself. He did not live, he could not, he did not want to live.
vision, sea-foam, merged into our hands.


(English translations of Anila Resul)

*

Korun Barbara, born in 1963 in Ljubljana, is among the leading figures in the generation of contemporary poets in Slovenia. He is the author of Ostrinia Milina (`the edge of tolerance ', Mladinski Knjiga, 1999), with whom he received the national award for the first work published.
His poems have been published in many anthologies and magazines, in twelve languages.
works in publishing houses and literary publications Apokalipsa NOVA Revija .