YOU CAN TELL AN ANGEL FROM HIS FEATHERS (For my parents who are not yet – departed) / Poem by Pavol Janik

Poem by Pavol Janik

http://www.casopiskvaka.com.hr/2018/01/pavol-janik-angela-poznajes-po-perju.html

 

YOU CAN TELL AN ANGEL FROM HIS FEATHERS
(For my parents who are not yet – departed)

In my innermost display cases
all my glassy memories tremble.

At the end of silence
to hear last year’s rain
how it dictates whispering
its incomprehensible telegram.

A pack of sad angels
howl in the light of the moon.

The river falls from weariness,
the mortal spirit of water
in it falls with ease
to the bottom.

I feel mercury in my veins
after the explosion of blood
– it’s in my guts
supersonic angels
rise from the dead.

Their deafening engines
start up in my head.

When they take off
the deepest silence begins
in which perhaps I’ll hear
distant pearls
how they pour on the parquets.

A morning confession of frozen tears
freezes me
in my yet more Autumn eyes.

 

ANJELA POZNÁŠ PO PERÍ
(Rodičom, ktorých už niet)

V mojej najvnútornejšej vitríne
sa zachveli všetky sklenené spomienky.

Na konci mlčania
počuť vlaňajší dážď,
ako pošepky diktuje
svoj nezrozumiteľný telegram.

Svorka smutných anjelov
zavýja pri svite luny.

Rieka klesá od únavy,
smrteľná duša vody
v nej zľahka padá
na dno.

Cítim ortuť v žilách
po výbuchu krvi
– to v mojich útrobách
vstávajú z mŕtvych
nadzvukoví anjeli.

V hlave mi štartujú
ich ohlušujúce motory.

Keď vzlietnu,
nastane najhlbšie ticho,
v ktorom azda začujem
vzdialené perly,
ako sa sypú na parkety.

Mrazí ma ranná spoveď
zamrznutých sĺz
v mojich čoraz jesennejších očiach.

 

ANGELA POZNAJEŠ PO PERJU
(Roditeljima kojih više nema)

U vitrini koja je najdublja u meni
su uzdrhtale sve staklene uspomene.

Na kraju tišine
čuti lanjsku kišu,
kako šapatom diktira
svoj nerazumljiv telegram.

Čopor tužnih anđela
urla na mesečini.

Reka posustaje od umora
samrtna duša vode
u nju polako pada
na dno.

Osećam živu u venama
posle eksplozije krvi
-to u mojoj utrobi
se dižu iz mrtvih
nadzvučni anđeli.

U glavi mi počinju
njihovi zaglušujući motori.

Kad polete,
počinje najdublja tišina,
u kojoj valjda čujem
udaljene perle
kako se prosipaju po parketu.

Smrzava me jutarnja ispovest
zamrznutih suza
u mojim još više pojesenjenim očima.

 

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