Šalamun Tomaž:
Lacquer

Destiny rolls over me. Sometimes like an egg.

   Sometimes

with its paws, slamming me into the slope. I shout. I

   take

my stand. I pledge all my juices. I shouldn’t

do this. Destiny can snuff me out, I feel it now.

If destiny doesn’t blow on our souls, we freeze

instantly. I spent days and days afraid

the sun wouldn’t rise. That this was my last day.

I felt light sliding from my hands, and if I didn’t

 

have enough quarters in my pocket, and Metka’s voice

were not sweet enough and kind and solid and

real, my soul would escape from my body, as one day

 

it will. With death you have to be kind.

Home is where we’re from. Everything in a moist

   dumpling.

We live only for a flash. Until the lacquer dries.

Translated by The author and Chris Merrill