Udovič Jože:
And Yet

And yet, throw nothing away.

Everywhere are hidden signs,

look behind the rotting fence, the wooden wall,

the old picture, into the empty jug,

behind solitude’s door, inside the ruined house,

beneath a heap of ashes, beneath the fire’s corpse,

beneath a calloused hand, beneath the roots of words,

beneath a stone, into a wound, into the face of fear,

at wasted pastures, behind a solitary bush,

somewhere a shelter is hidden, as yet unknown,

a gentle womb of poems and feathers,

of azure moss and breath

which may give rise

to an unheard-of harmony

Translated by Michael Biggins