Vsako noč je padel mrak. Stvari
padajo. Zakaj me je
torej to presenetilo.
Preden sem si lahko
predstavljala svoje življenje
brez njega, so prišli
vetrovi, raztreščili zrak
in upognili drevo
tako daleč nazaj, da so se njegove korenine,
devetdeset let, pretrgale
in sprožile. Mislim, da je,
ko je padlo, postalo
nespoznavno. Vsak dan
svojega življenja zdaj ne morem
razumeti. Sile
dveh vetrov, ki je dvignila
devetdeset let negibnosti,
kot bi ne bilo nič,
kot bi ne bila držala vseh
vran in megel in praznila
noči iz svojih vej.
Iglice so padle. Storži
so ob vsaki uri deževali
na mojo verando, nenehna
nadloga. Dovolj je,
da si želimo predmetov,
da vedno
iščemo pot
ven iz bolečine. Kar je onkraj
nalog in prihodnosti, sedi tik
pred nami, neskončno
dragoceno. Posadila sem
lipo, lipo z nežnimi,
čistimi koti, na desetkrat
manjšo parcelo. Nekatere spremembe
so prevelike.
Nekje je polje,
belo in tiho, kjer stoji
drevo, kot je to,
narejeno v celoti iz
lebdenja. Nič me ne bo
več tako držalo pokonci.
Prevod: Jernej Županič
Dusk fell every night. Things
fall. Why should I
have been surprised.
Before it was possible
to imagine my life
without it, the winds
arrived, shattering air
and pulling the tree
so far back its roots,
ninety years, ripped
and sprung. I think
as it fell it became
unknowable. Every day
of my life now I cannot
understand. The force
of dual winds lifting
ninety years of stillness
as if it were nothing,
as if it hadn’t held every
crow and fog, emptying
night from its branches.
The needles fell. The pinecones
dropped every hour
on my porch, a constant
irritation. It is enough
that we crave objects,
that we are always
looking for a way
out of pain. What is beyond
task and future sits right
before us, endlessly
worthy. I have planted
a linden, with its delicate
clean angles, on a plot
one tenth the size. Some change
is too great.
Somewhere there is a field,
white and quiet, where a tree
like this one stands,
made entirely of
hovering. Nothing will
hold me up like that again.