Poems by Pavol Janik
NIGHT BUS
I admire the smiles
of the wax figures
and the drunks.
Their faith.
Their humility.
Their precision.
Their infallible wisdom
determined by the office of normalization.
I admire
their wallpapered souls
full of light and brocade.
Their responsibility and legality
surpassing
the price of taxis and wine.
I’m terrified by the indifference
with which they listen
to the heavy breathing of the last trolley buses.
SUMMER
The sun smashes our windows.
An urgent song reaches us from the street.
On the cellophane sky
steam condenses.
Unconfirmed reports are reproduced
about the wind.
The trees are the first to begin to talk
about the two of us.
Translated into English by James Sutherland-Smith
