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