Tomaž
Šalamun was born in 1941. He has published thirty
books of poetry which have been translated into
almost every European language. Until recently,
he was the cultural attache to the Slovenian Consulate
General in RESPONSIBILITY Have you ever seen
God running so hell make
it by two-thirty responsibility responsibility approaching neither
start nor finish immovable attached instead of just dangling
its legs responsibility responsibility world without nature world without discourse trees, while still
growing, are not responsible and what is the word
supposed to do with it the sun doesnt need
it for setting nor the sky which is
sheer blueness and nothing more in the beginning there
was transparency a world of things and
true language words were things things were words who did God consult when he made a butterfly
as it is when he could have
made its legs six inches thick responsibility responsibility baroque sustenance
of the people Translated by Michael
Biggins Poem from Poker
(1966) I HAVE A HORSE I have a horse. My
horse has four legs. I have a record player.
On my record player
I sleep. I have a brother. My
brother is a sculptor. I have a coat. I have
a coat to keep me warm. I have a plant. I have
a plant to have green in my room. I have Maruška because
I love her. I have matches. With
matches I light cigarettes. I have a body. With
a body I do the most beautiful things that I do. I have destruction.
Destruction cause me many troubles. I have night. Night
comes to me through the window of my room. I have fun racing cars.
I race cars because car racing is fun. I have money. With
money I buy bread. I have six really good
poems. I hope I will write more of them. I am twenty-seven years
old. All these years have passed like lightning. I am relatively courageous.
With this courage I fight human stupidity. I have a birthday March
seventh. I hope March seventh will be a nice day. I have a friend whose
daughters name is Breditza. In the evening when
they put her to bed she says Šalamun
and falls asleep. Translated by poet
and Anselm Hollo. Poem from Pilgrimage
for Maruška (1971) EPITAPH Only God exists. Spirits
are a phantom. Blind shadows of machines
concealing the Kiss. My Death is my Death.
It wont be shared with the dull peace
of others laid beneath this sod. Whoever kneels at my
grave--take note-- the earth will shake.
Ill extract the sweet juices from your genitals and neck.
Give me your lips. Take care that no thorns
pierce your eardrums as you writhe,
like a worm, the living before the
dead. Let this oxygene bomb wash you gently.
Blow you up only as far as your heart
will support. Stand up and remember: I love
everyone who truly knows me. Always. Get up now.
Youve pledged yourself and awakened. Translated by Michael
Biggins Poem from Ballad
for Metka Krašovec (1981) Published by arrangement
with the author (Translations are
taken from: Tomaž Šalamun. The Four Questions
of Melancholy. NY, 1997) © Tomaž Šalamun,
1997 © Translators, 1997 |