Capriccio - Uroš Zupan

Form is what remains;
the glimmer of divine shapes,
light, colors, odors and tastes,
dreams after Coleridge's pipe –

Puddles - Uroš Zupan

At 8.10 in the morning I was exactly
43 years old. Long blots of sunlight
are broken off by sharpened shadows. The clouds

Rocket - Edvard Kocbek

Moonlight is dangerous,

Mothers used to say,

Sleeping walkers on nocturnal roofs

Are very suspicious,

A Detail - Uroš Zupan

Bathed in red light,

seated at a table,

alone, an unknown woman gets ready

to light a cigarette.

The Rise of the Zebra - Tomaž Šalamun

The rise of the zebra hurts the zebra.
As if she would breathe fire.
If  we put natural gold and the black blue into
the loaf of  bread it bursts.

High Ride in the Streets - Gregor Podlogar

sun rays have ripped open the clouds' bellies
the rain has stopped tourists are exhausted

Legs on the Signpost - Tomaž Šalamun

The insane devotee throbs with his
small legs, I don’t dare more.

The Kiss Across the Ocean - Tomaž Šalamun

O little bird, how tired I am!
Do you want to see everything that I have written today?
New I have an entire factory
and little men dressed in little sackcloths.

Close to midnight - Srečko Kosovel

Close to midnight.
Flies dying in a glass.

Mountain - Edvard Kocbek

Whenever I look at you, you are magnificent
and when I gaze at your peak from nearby
my lips start to tremble, whispering, oh sacred
mountain, oh solemn and mysterious mountain, oh
untamed  and maternal mountain, oil
the primal and bold flight toward the sky,