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8 article(s) translated from Slovene

Letters without Envelopes

Mara's first letter came in the autumn of the late 1980s. The fact that she had gotten my address in Switzerland, as she explained at the beginning, seemed incredible to me, almost mysterious. She lived in Dalmatia, in a town I had never been to. She wrote me a two-page letter, mentioning more than once that she was a lesbian, probably the only one in Dalmatia, if not the whole of Croatia. For a number of years, she had been visiting her uncle in Zurich and particularly her friend...

The Ghosts are Schrödinger Cats

It was one of those evenings when the world was coming off its hinges, and once again, who knows why, someone decided to be unwise enough to care for it so that it wouldn’t. I stood in the armory next to small, deeply embedded Gothic windows and, looking through the lead, mullioned glass (which looked like it was made from the bottoms of bottles), tried to see what was happening outside the castle doors. As a waterfall thundered down over the gables, bringing with it pieces of slate...

Largo di Vitoria

Out of milk, out of strong skin jumps the big brother. When the river flows, the berth sleeps. There’s the block behind me.   The biggest mango tree in Bahia is a hundred meters away. Spike Lee said this.   Where do you rove beneath drying hood? Young greenhorns move by themselves. The tribe sleeps on the bench.   Black leg between two seagulls is dressed in blue slipper. No one smells itself better then little hills.   The lady with crutches...

Movements

1 You went to heaven, Sir, forgetting your legs. Should we bury them?   My legs are rose-pink and they’re no good for a wafer.     2 Wanderer, the moon has its own saying.    I would pour over your face with a bucket so the water would flow onto your clothes.     3 Biscuits stick together differently than peanuts. He started to nibble my girlfriend.     4 I remember the clear day and the glimmering of frozen gutters....

From the Figure 6 Into Ships

You destroyed all letters. You burned the heavenly garden.  Lot's wife, Ahmed, tiny little mouth.   Das ist Mercedes Benz. Jetzt ist zu spät.  Did Glinka shake from his sleeve                                Glinka, limping?   Furore is a feeble little brother, says Ashka.   A carnal king...

From “You Do Understand?”

A Day I Loved You I lay there with my eyes closed, waiting for my husband to vacate his half of the bed. To go to work, of course. He’ll get a sandwich on the corner. He’ll have a coffee during his first meeting. Then he’ll call home. To make sure that I’m still here, and haven’t run away. I’m not going to. I’m going to open that box of old snapshots again. There were no hard drives back in those days. I’ll go through it all photo by...

“Walking”

All along our Wooden Cross garden the peonies were dying. . . The sun was dying on them, too, filling the orchard and the village road with the scent of warm apricots and squashed petal leaves way down to the cellar. I didn't stop walking, no thought would pin me down, nothing I saw would make me turn around and look again, my head was full of rabbits. I passed by my grandmother, arranging the flowers of the Cross before evening, I skipped the tufts of wild chamomile and...

from “The Fourth Take”

As he was hastily and wearily glancing through the window at Gare du Nord, Michel felt as if he recalled Christophe's face at least twice a minute. Christophe's face was big and long, slow and thoughtful; but above all it was pale, pale as if Brussels had suddenly leaned inside through the window and spread all the fog from its bosom along his features. They were sitting in Christophe's flat somewhere in the vicinity of the Southern railway station. Christophe's mouth was...

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