Edvard Kocbek Poems

O zgodovina, slepi nemir Slovenstva,
nenehno spopadanje dobrega in zlega,
padanje trušca v brezdanji prepad,
od jutra do vecera ena sama slovesna
zmeda, krik zmagovalcev in jok premagancev,
o zgodovina, urjenje pomneza in sladkost
pozabe, zastave v vetru, ropotanje bobnov
in topotanje konj, presenecenje mrtvih
straz, slepe miši in ovaduhi, tehnicna
odkritja in sanje o Babilonu, vrtiljak
slave, vmes pa kratki pocitki za novi
zaman, naskoki in umiki, grajenje s podiranjem,
plazenje v temi in tlenje pod
pepelom, zibelke in letala, tanki in
porocni venci, o zgodovina, kje so tvoje
ekstaze in manifesti, kje so tvoji zlati
venci in mramorni spomeniki, kje so tvoje
prerokbe in skrite ljubezni, kam vodijo
vaša pota tako imenovani voditelji
Slovenstva, kaj skriva vaš šepet
za crnimi ocali, kaj pomenita vaš molk
in vaša zgovornost, vaši nenehni obiski
in nikomur znani pogovori, romarji zaman
trkajo na druga vrata, umetniki zaman
vezejo oboke novih palac na sklepne
kamne, otroci zaman rišejo parole na
svoje zidove, zaman odkritja v megafonih
in zaman zrtvovanje zenskega rodu, zaman
parade in salve, salve v pozdrav, salve
v opozorilo, salve za kazen, prevec je
prepovedi, prevec ukazov, vse gre mimo
neba in mimo cloveka na zemlji.
...

History, the blind tumult of man,
the incessant conflict of good and evil.
the sinking of infernal noise into a bottomless pit,
one solemn confusion from morning till night,
the victory shouts of conquerors and the wailing of the defeated,
history, the drilling of memory and die sweetness
of oblivion, banners m die wind, clattering of drums,
stampede of horses, the astonishment of slaughtered
guards, pretenders and informers, technological
discoveries and dreams of Babylon, the marry-go-round
of fame with short rests in between for the new
onslaught, attacks and withdrawals, building and destruction.
crawling in the dark and smoldering under ashes
cradles and warplanes, tanks and bridal
wreaths, history, where are your ecstasies
and manifest", where are you golden
wreaths and marble monuments, where are your
prophecies and hidden loves, what are your intentions,
you, so called leaders
of mankind, what is hidden in your whispers behind dark glasses,
what is the meaning of your silence
of yow loquacity, of your conscious meetings
and secret talks, pilgrims knock in vain
on other doors, artists connect in vain arches
of palaces rising from new foundations, in vain children write
slogans on the walls, in vain are the discoveries in megaphones
in vain the sacrificing of womankind, in vain
parades and volleys, volleys as greetings, volleys
as warnings, volleys for punishment, too many
bans, too many orders, as if there were
no sky, as if there were no man.
...

Ne morem zaspati,
okoli mene nastaja
velika nesreca,
besede, ki sem jih kdaj koli
spregovoril in pošiljal v svet,
se nenadoma vracajo utrujene,
bolne, vznemirjene na smrt,
išcejo zavetja pred poginom,
prhutajo, krilijo, cvrcijo,
civkajo zateglo, obletavajo me,
bezijo pred obrabo in pozabo,
pred steklenim ocesom mrtveca,
pred laserjevim zarkom, ki zavraca
premislek in posrednika,
nastaja kuzno plapolanje izraza,
širi se hlastna naglica, besede
jecajo, zvijajo se v krcih,
ne vedo vec domov, kjer so si
sleherno noc spocile,
plahutajo nad menoj,
ki lezim v temi prazen in nem,
prepoznavam jih, udomacene, divje,
radostne In zalostne, sanjske,
preplašene, neznanske, izdajalske,
obupne, igrive, ljubezenske,
junaške, pobozne, vse materinske,
vse moje, ocetove, vse moje bistvo,
moji spomini. moje slutnje,
moje preroštvo, moje umiranje,
soba jih je polna,
sedajo na predmete, nikamor ne morejo,
bremenijo me, rotijo me, umirajo,
ihtijo in ponavljajo,
vsa dupla onesnazena,
vsa gnezda razdrta,
vsi razgledi zaprti,
vsa usta nema,
katastrofa se seli vame,
nikamor jih ne morem vrniti,
z nicemer potolaziti,
niti roke ne morem stegniti
in niti ust odpreti,
besede obup ne morem pobozati, nic ne
morem reci besedama tolazba, rešitev,
besedi igraca in milost me davita,
na oci mi sedajo tiste, na begu ustreljene,
clovek, mati, ljubezen, zvestoba,
na prsi mi legajo tiste nesrecne,
ki sem jih zanemarjal ali nikoli izgovoril,
ena med njimi pa se mi je ugnezdila
prav med drhtecimi ustnicami,
nikoli je se nisem videl v besednjaku.
...

Kadar koli se te tiho spomnim, pade z mene vse grešno in tuje, svet je
znova slovesen, nedolzen in sprošcen kakor po dobrem delu. Tedaj zapustim
zemljo in stopim z igrivimi stopali na širno morje. Zacnem se potepati
zunaj celine, kjer so prodali lepotico, in jo išcem na gugajocih se tleh.
Zacnem carati in prepevati in vabiti k sebi, igram se z globino navzgor
in navzdol, skacem od vala do vala, po obiskih, skozi prastaro svetovje
in mutasta tla, pojem si pesmi minevanja, poznam vse popevke in nacine
glasov, nacine ljubezni, nacine spominov in prerokb, na vetru gugam svoje
brazgotine, plezam po domišljiji, ves svet je moj, le pesem dekleta se mi izmika,
nekaj pomembnega se mi oddaljuje, poslušam padanje mescevih krajcev in
odmeve uraganov z Aljaske in šume gozdov v Kanadi, kako se krotko pasejo
in vendar je ne ulovim, ceprav jo slutim talec, potepuh, carovnik in ljubimec,
išcem dekletovo pesem skozi strašni nic, blodim kakor najtišja sapa skozi
orgelske pišcali, kakor trava skozi lisasto kravo ali kakor utez skozi škripec casa.
ves sem ze pokrit s koralami, zato nikomur ne povej, kje sem skrit in kje
te bom našel, ostani vedezna tema in blazeno prizadeta bolecina pod slapovi
ciste reke od mlina do mlina.
...

When my quiet thoughts reach for you, all that is sinful and alien
falls off me. The world again becomes solemn, innocent and
relaxed, like after a good deed. I leave the earth and take my
playful feet to the open sea. I start wandering away from the soil
where they sold the beautiful maiden, searching for her on the
rocking ground. I begin casting spells, singing, luring toward
myself, toying with depth jumping from wave to wave, on clouds,
through the ancient universe and mute grounds, singing the songs
of the transient, knowing all the melodies and voices, ways of
loving, ways of memories and prophecies, letting the wind rock my
scars, climbing over the fantasy, the whole world belongs to me,
only the song of the maiden eludes me, something essential is
fleeing, I listen to the falling of quarters of the moon and echoes of
hurricanes in Alaska, to the docile feeding of rustling Canadian
forests, but I cannot seize her though I sense her, I, hostage,
wanderer, wizard, and lover am seeking the maiden's song through
the terrifying nothingness, roaming like the softest breeze through
the organ's pipes, like grass through the spotty cow, or like weight
through the clutch of time, I am all covered with corals, maiden, let
nobody know where I am hiding and where I can find you, remain
the knowing darkness and the blessed pain under the waterfalls of
the river, in its clear flow from mill to mill.
...

Grahasti šotor
utrujenih romarjev,
varovalna barva
pametne zelve,
lišaj starih noci,
mah krotkih gozdov,
tišina metulja,
iz potrpezljivosti
sešteto trajanje —
in vendar ni sfinga
niti riba faronika
niti pravljicni zmaj,
to je utrujeni vol
z debelo glavo
naslonjeno na nebo,
dobrotljivo oko
se mu vcasih odpre
za dišece seno
ali omamno kadilo,
za petelina v vetru
in bronaste zvonove,
se vedno zdi
ob svetih jaslih,
ustvarjeno veze
z neustvarjenim.
nikjer ni razpoke,
srce, miruj,
ne utripaj preglasno,
da se sporocilo
tihega pergamenta
ne sesuje v prsih.
...

Kadar koli te pogledam, si neznanska,
in kadar se ozrem od blizu na tvoj vrh,
mi zadrhtijo usta in zašepecejo, o sveta
gora, o slovesna in skrivnostna gora, o
divja in materinska gora, o starodavni
in drzni zalet proti nebu, poln vzdihov
in castitljivih spominov, o speca in
vase sklonjena gora, polna tisocletnih
brazgotin, na videz si brezbrizna za
svojo zagonetnost, v resnici pa si
cudovito ubrana v svoji grozljivosti,
ceprav te ne morem nikoli videti od vseh
strani hkrati. V tišini dobro zaznavam
cistost tvojih spominov, kar naprej si
na poti domov, prej ali slej se ti bo
izpolnila zelja, zato si mirna kot vecnost,
cloveka prisiliš ob slehernem pogledu nate,
da podvomi o samem sebi in zacuti tvojo
pravo skrivnost: glej, najmogocnejša nosna
zenska si, ki ti prihaja sramezljiva ura,
zdaj zdaj se bo rahlo vzdignila in si
izbrala najlepšo zeleno obleko z belimi
in sinjimi rozami, na poti si v skrivni
kraj, vulkanski dih je v tebi ozivel, tvoje
dihanje vznemirja divje zivali in pricuje
o širjenju tvoje maternice, prsi se ti
napenjajo od bozanskega mleka in divjega
medu, v oblakih nad teboj se igrajo zgodbe
tvoje neunicljive mitologije, vse bi te rado
posnemalo, vse zacne slaviti tvoj porod, nic
drugega ne morem. pridruzujem se in ponavljam
besede slave: o neznanska gora, o sveta,
divja in slovesna gora. o moja draga gora,
o moja materinska in skrivnostna gora.
...

Whenever I look at you, you are magnificent
and when I gaze at your peak from nearby
my lips start to tremble, whispering, oh sacred
mountain, oh solemn and mysterious mountain, oh
untamed and maternal mountain, oil
the primal and bold flight toward the sky,
fill of sighs and venerable memories,
oh dreaming mountain, locked within yourself,
bearing myriads of scars. You seem indifferent
to your secrecy, but in truth your serenity
terrifies me, though l can never see you from all sides.
In silence I hear the purity of your memories,
sense your eternal walk toward home,
and knowing you'll reach it,
your calm assurance is ancient.
You force a man who looks upon you
To doubt himself, discovering your
true secret: you are the most magnificent pregnant woman,
shyly close to giving birth,
shifting imperceptibly in choosing the beautiful green dress
with white and blue flowers,
you are on your way to the secret place
the volcanic breath has awakened in you.
Your breathing agitates the wild animals and tells
of the widening of your womb,
your breasts are swelling from divine milk
and wild honey,
the clouds above you tell the story
of your indestructible mythology,
they all want to be part of the celebration
of you giving birth
and I, too, am in awe, am repeating
the words of glory: oh magnificent mountain,
oh wild mountain, oh sacred and solemn mountain,
the maternal, the mysterious.
...

Kraljicna španska
hodi med nami,
ne vidite je
in ne slišite je,
prerokba
ali spomin.
Hodi zravnana,
jutranje rasti,
na glavi nosi
vecerni vrc,
mirujte,
ne ganite se,
vrc je napolnjen
z roso naših oci,
nosi ga zravnana
v opotecnem casu,
ravnotezje
ji je presunljivo,
ne prestrašite je,
imejte usmiljenje z njo
in s samim seboj,
vsaka kaplja
naša odkupnina,
kraljicna hodi varno,
z neznim pogumom,
ze je v vratih,
ze odhaja
po stopnicah navzgor.
...

A Spanish princess
walks among us.
You do not see her,
do not hear her,
the prophecy
or the memory.
She walks erect,
of morning stature,
carrying a jug of evening
on her head.
Be still,
do not move,
the jug is full
of your eyes' dew.
She carries it erect
in these fickle times.
her balance
is astonishing,
do not frighten her,
have compassion for her,
for yourselves,
each drop
our ransom.
The princess walks safely
with tender courage.
She is through the door already,
starting up
up the stairs.
...