Obljuba dežja
Svetloba pada skozi slamnato streho na majhno
zaplato zemlje sredi temačne hiše. Drobne rastline
se poganjajo navzgor v zavetju mreže proti komarjem.
Ko je starec umrl, so v steno vdelali nov par rogov.
Čezenj se je usul prah, pajčevina. S stropa visijo
zlati poganjki riža. Hiša ob hiši, z ljudmi, posedajočimi
na dvoriščih, in mislimi, begajočimi kot gruča kokoši,
čakajoč dež. Njihov otok se je odlomil od celine časa
in se izgubil med plavajočimi gozdovi mangrov.
Kadar prašiči v plitvinah rijejo pregloboko, se vas
nagne postrani. Ribiči se vračajo z lesketom lusk
v mrežah, a voda polzi skozi. Rezervoarji odmevajo.
Gospe se smejijo ob kozarcih palmovega vina,
ki je ostalo od neke prihodnje letine. Minister obljublja
vodovod s pitno vodo. Živali so žrtvovane, lobanje
pribite na les. Preden se svet potopi, morda jutri,
bodo vaščani odšli po peščeni ulici do volišča,
da jim mezince obarvajo z rožnato barvo.
A Promise of Rain
A light is falling through the thatched roof on a small
patch of ground in the middle of a dim house. Tiny plants
are sprouting up in the shelter of a mosquito net.
When an old man died, they built a new pair of horns into the wall.
A dust poured over, a cobweb. From the ceiling golden
rice blades are hanging. A hut beside a hut, with people, sitting
in the yards, and thoughts, roaming as a flock of chicken,
waiting for a rain. Their island broke off from the continent of time
and got lost among the floating mangrove forests.
When the pigs root too deep in the shallows, the village
turns askew. Fishermen return with the glitter of scales
in their nets, but a water slips through. Reservoirs echo.
Ladies laugh at the glasses of palm wine remained
of some future harvest. A minister promises
plumbing and drinking water. Animals are sacrificed, skulls
nailed to the wood. Before the world sinks, maybe tomorrow,
the villagers will follow the sandy street to the polls
to get coloured their pinkies pink.
Written, translated & photographed by Uroš Marolt.