Svetac
Svetac
Tri stabla tresnje, jedna sljiva,
jedan orah, pola suncokreta:
tu je izrastao svetac
prekrizenih ruku
na grudima. Izrastao je iz zenlje:
nikad nije prosao kroz zenu.
Hraneci se smokvama
bijel kao svjeze bijelo obojena barka
uzeo je nebo za oci.
Sveti Ioan Stolpnik
nije nikad pozelio bliznjega
niti znao za strast
jer je izrastao iz zemlje:
nikakav dodir moguc mesu
nije mogao ublaziti febru njegove kicme.
Problematicno je bilo
sto da zrtvuje Bogu.
Popevci se na stup
zrtvovao je znatizelju,
a to mu je i bilo jedino,
Ioanu.
© 1963, Ivan Slamnig
From: Naronska sijesta
A Saint
Three cherry trees, one plum tree,
An oak, one half of a sunflower:
a saint has grown right here,
hands crossed
at his chest.
He has grown out of the earth:
he has never passed through a woman.
Feeding on figs,
as white as a newly painted white boat,
he turned the skies into his eyes.
St. Ioan Stolpnik
never coveted his nearest and dearest
and he never experienced passion,
all because he had grown out of the earth:
there was no touch connected to human flesh
that could quench the desires of his backbone.
His problem was
that he did not know what to give up to God.
When he climbed up the pillar,
he sacrificed his curiosity,
and that was the only thing he had,
poor Ioan.
© Translation: 2003, Sibila Petlevski