Zajc Dane:
Southern Dreams

A wind from the hollows

strikes against the wall

A call from inland

which darkly rustles

a call which beckons no one

awakens you

 

Outside the shore slices the sea

branches fly up and flee with a blast

of matter

 

You stand like a stone which breathes

a stone which listens with the heart of a living thing

 

Wind with a pocked forehead

with a face of low voices near the ground

mad southern dreams dryly burn

his eyes

 

In the silent sky

three white seagulls alight from three stars

and fly on motionless wings

to the east

Translated by Erica Johnson Debeljak