VI. Oaza / Oasis

Morocco, 2018

Oaza

Kot spomin ravna ulica z rdečim glinenim obzidjem

na obeh straneh, za njo pustinja. Mož sedi na zidu

in strmi v daljavo nad čredo ovac.

Za zidom mogočna krošnja in lajež psa. Daleč

sva prišla: v iskanju lastnih sledi v pesku sva našla

oazo za visokimi vrati. Čas je za sprejemanje svetlobe

kot to počnejo rastline. Plodovi oljk so črni

od neprestanega hranjenja. V njih se zganejo nočne

ptice in zaskovikajo, da se limona utrne na tla,

edina svetla točka v mraku. Pijemo vino na terasi

in Atlas počasi popušča pod težo neba na hrbtu.

Nebo pritiska na palme, da se nagibajo rahlo naprej.

Druga drugi morajo biti v oporo v tem drobnem

svetu. Veter prinaša vanj zven minaretov, kot drobce stekla,

ki posuti po zidu varujejo pred prihodom tujcev.

Oasis

A street straight as a memory with red clay walls

on both sides, behind it a wasteland. A man sits on the wall

and stares into the distance above the flock of sheep.

Behind the wall a magnificent canopy and a dog bark. Far

we arrived to: in search of our own footprints in the sand

we found an oasis behind the high door. It is time to receive light

as plants do. The olive fruits are black from their ceaseless

feeding. Inside them the night birds stir and hoot

causing a lemon glint on the ground, the only bright point

in the dusk. We drink wine on the terrace while Atlas

is slowly loosening under the weight of the sky on his back.

The sky is pressuring on the palms, making them lean slightly

forward. They must support each other in this tiny

world. The wind brings in a minaret song, as fragments of glass,

sprinkled on the wall they shield from the arrival of strangers.

Written, translated & photographed by Uroš Marolt.