Udovič Jože:
The Smell Of Mown Grass

As I watch you, earth,

in evening’s billowing light,

I tremble to your summons,

and the bitter taste of parting

floods my mouth day after day.

I am your eye, your heart,

your soul, your memory,

your rainbows fan out in me,

the eyes of countless hearts gaze out from me,

and the faithful mouths

of past love speak.

There shines in me the scent

of unknown women,

in me your years




I carry the hushing of forests

vanished long ago,

the smell of mown grass


birth and death.


Like a dark, secret spell

I speak these words,

and as I walk through short grass

in the sorrowful wind and mellow light,

this fragile creature can sense

that it’s you that speaks them,

you speak them.

Translated by Michael Biggins