Crystal Poem by Branko Maleš

the hills are of iron combs
whose tunics are wedge-shaped tongues
you are - you broken mop!
clay has split like a ruin

cracks are eating a candle
in the dark ice of the esophagus
bees are piled up
photonic honey comb is - a leather word

where darkness gathers
on a sooty meadow!
villagers comb swords of that
which are listened to as herbal readings

in the morning soap-suds
a face is flying
everything happens like on a white sailing boat
and foam has risen - like lace of curls

a rope of pike hisses like frost
a nail of silver cracks floor by floor
an owl and a jar are fuming by the creek
the creek - a stake of winter

tradesmen whose slanted eyes
loudly speak of tense skin
carry young algebra in saddle - bags
and ears of a carpet

oh, you are such a shiny silo
like a salmon
a colossus of letter!
like an intruder - oil spills on porcelain

Translated by Miljenko Kovačićek