Grafenauer Niko:

Sounds sleep in the black spangle of tightening waters.

Now and then they flap up a noise

like a man awakening from sleep.

Shadows blend with misunderstanding.

You lean over your thoughts as over a bleeding vein.

Your hair sprouts in the wind like grass

when you rub your hands and pant into the ovary

of horror flaming up in the middle of the night.


You are alone and time surrounds you like the circles of a tree.

Like a deep echo the world confronts you.

You go and your evening image

goes slowly dark, a sinking into forgetfulness.


Silence shatters at our touch.

Dust beneath you toes unclenches its numberless fists.

Rage licks the bristling adder

threatening you like god’s finger in your home.

Translated by Jože Lazar