Kocbek Edvard:
In a Torched Village

I lean on a wall

still hot

from the long fire,

nowhere a villager,

nowhere a villain,

the ground gives way,

the universe sways

stars perish.

There is a surge, suddenly,

of the scent of violets.

I begin to hear

gentle voices:

grass rising

for new footsteps,

ashes cohering

to a new strength.


A spring gushes into

its stone trough,

a cat returns

to its scorched doorstone.

I grow more and more,

become a giant,

now I see over

the horror’s shoulders.

Translated by Michael Biggins