Udovič Jože:
Black Regions

A region where the air

still smells

of burnt sacrifices.

I hang

funeral wreaths

above it

on every cloud.

A region where

weapons of death

have ravaged meadows

hugging stone.

Above it I unfurl

a fabric of verse,

weave memory

and the smoldering dark



A region where betrayal

has forged its knives.

I sprinkle it with dew,

cover it with ashes,

and bound,

pitch headlong in.

Translated by Michael Biggins