Forenziki bodo v meni
Našli popoln odtis tvoje pesti.
V poročilu bo stalo: Sum na umor.
Morda si bo kdo od njih
Med liste knjige vdel pajčevino
Mojih las. Morda bo dejal:
Škoda.
Ali: Še ena. Prestar postajam za to.

Vedno je pot ven.
Oškodovani se bodo
Starali dalje. In dan
Za dnem voskali novo smrt.
Neprepoznano. Neprepoznavno.

Nerešen primer bom
V kleteh policijske postaje
In tvoje zavesti.
Ličar človeške pločevine
Bo s pudrom zasul vdrtino,
V kateri sem namakala tvoje oči.

Vse zgodbe so se zgodile,
Preden smo jih zapisali.
Med plastmi črne tišine
Tudi ta.


* Sylvii Plath


BLACK SILENCE



Forensics will find
A perfect match of your fist in me.
The report will state: Possible homicide.
Perhaps one of them
Will lay a cobweb of my hair
Between the book sheets.
Perhaps they'll say: Too bad.
Or: I'm getting too old for that.

There's always a way out.
The impaired will grow older
On and on. Vaxing new deaths
Day after day.
Unrecognized. Unrecognizable.

An open case I'll remain
In the basement of the police station
And your conscience.
The varnisher of human plate
Will powder up the hollow
Where I was soaking your eyes.

All stories had happened
Long before they were written.
Between the layers of black silence
This one has come to pass, too.


* In memory of Sylvia Plath

Aleksandra Kocmut - Kerstin