Dekleva Milan:
Anaximander’s Wake

A silent house. A mouse-silent woman

is breathing her dreams beside me. Earth-silent

is my wake, scared, stunned, without a memory.

I wake, solemnly waiting, and touching my love

hot between her legs. What is it I am waiting for?

Nothing. Nobody. What is the purpose of such a horrible eternity?

Death? Maybe I no longer exist. An illusion.

Spirit is cruel, it wreaks vengeance upon the body.

It knows it will never grow old

as the body will. Time doesn’t care.

Time destroys the silence of the house,

my wife’s dream, and my wake.

Translated by Boris A. Novak and Richard Jackson