
Iskanje boga v blatu
Leseni in kamniti stebri z volovskimi lobanjami
so vrata, skozi katera so odšli predniki. Volovska kri
obarva spomin. Lase si barvajo rdeče s plodovi grmov ob poti.
Stvari, ki izginejo, ne izginejo. Palčki jih nosijo, stopajo
z narobe obrnjenimi stopali v daljavo, ki jih pomanjša.
Mario je videl enega v Manambondru, v garaži.
Z golimi rokami zakopljejo kosti v grobnico, z mrzlimi
lopatami jih tatovi izkopljejo. Jih prodajo kateri od drugih smrti?
K večerji belcev prinesejo bolnega otroka – umira, pravijo.
Se bo zgodila še ena od kraj, še zadnje izginotje?
Odhajajo skozi dež …
Searching for a God in the Mud
Wooden and stony pillars with ox skulls
are the door where the ancestors left. Ox blood
colours the memory. They dye their hair red
with the fruit from the bushes beside the path.
Things that disappear, do not disappear. Dwarfs carry them,
treading with their feet turned backwards
into the distance that makes them small.
Mario had seen one in Manambondro, in the garage.
They bury bones in the tomb bare handed, with cold
shovels thieves dig them up. Do they sell them to one of the other deaths?
An ill child is brought to the dinner of whites – dying, they say.
Will yet another theft happen, the last disappearance?
They are leaving through the rain …
Written, translated & photographed by Uroš Marolt.