Barbara Pogačnik Good night, season With a high wall of fire, spring invisibly pulled in air and changed it into eternal wakefulness. Season of white nights, out of all the seasons the bears would sleep this one through. The clouds have been shot through; they nod off in the breath of a shoulder. There’s nothing in this deserted town except for birds and the red ball that I’m sitting on. That`s me inside the ball of feathers rolling down the hill. In the ball I is a shield and sword, also I is not me. Poison is whistling from a red balloon, leaking tiny caterpillars on the rails and on the grass. Translated by Julija Potrč & Anthony McCann
Hats The cat’s paws are set softly on the grass, peace in the springtime. Ivy grows up through our feet into our hearts. From dark corners straw figures fall. Their hats hide our toes for a moment. Jellyfish, hats of the sea, welcome the first flowers. The body bends like rubber around the moon and our houses are finished. Flowers have dropped their snowy petals. Then the cat forgets the peace of its white paws, suddenly it grows huge and our heads land alone on the bowling green – poor moons without hats. Translated by Ana Pepelnik & Kelly Lenox Barbara Pogačnik, is a Slovenian poet, translator, literary critic. Published four poetry books. Her poetry appeared in 35 languages and translated more than 150 authors. She has been member of several literary juries, is member of PEN, and is on the board of Slovenian Writers Association.
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