Talk At Twilight Poem by Srecko Kosovel

Our windows are barred.
White barricades.
The American Indians know nothing
of gravity.
But dynamite explodes
in Novaja Zemija, too.
You, Sir, in the astrakhan cap!
There is no arithmetic mean
between the old and the new worlds.
One is either old or young.
A golden boat on the horizon.
Natural laws = ethics???
The cosmos could be understood
even without physics.
People swinging hanged
from telegraph poles.
Entrance: one dinar.
It is raining.
Man talks to the cosmos.
A barn outside the window.