History


A forest fire, that's when the forest burns.

heat from the southern sky lilts onto the treetops:

trees take in the delivery of leaf-wrapped light

like chicken swallowing dumb oats.

the trees are done then

except we don't know it yet. like a sow swallowing a fist.

a flame already rustles in the shirt pocket, within its

folds, and the day is decidedly brighter.

on the horizon, on its spine and its hairs

there are two suns; the wider one sniffs through the darkness.

it holds nothing for itself, goes nowhere.

truceless; it softens only when the smoke crawls

into the blind oats and remains there. everything will smarten up;

everything around me will soon become the sun,

the sun thinks while marrying branches with surrounding air.

squirrels and snakes race down the tree trunk toward dirt.

heat, not knowing its own name, sinks into soft

reality and the trunk pulses, mobs with birds

into the common madness. when from the trunk a beast bursts out.

it devours the bark and crests finally tear the surface.

in its deep silence, the trunk now crows.

it guides to another day too keen on passing.

the heat hastens down. it curls up, soundless,

someplace in the roots, a revelry cornered back to its beginning,

its wise youth. the fire craves itself.

it spreads across tall shrubs like dawn across the dark

sky, a greeting across a full and an empty room.

it licks the leaves, licks the bark, licks the roots, licks a little bit

of everything. and it becomes closer to one and all.

closer to the low and high, it starts out small

then loses itself in work. the world rumbles now:

amid air and earth remains nothing.

some animals have left, others have stayed.

above them the entire woods shift,

intangibly, like the cleansing and crackling of hot springs,

a quiet impurity that flees yet adheres, condenses.

and all is somewhere and all is nowhere, and all is illuminated.

a forest fire, that's when the woods burn. a fire

is when it burns.




Povijest


Šumski požar to je kad gori šuma.

toplina na krošnje spušta se s južnog neba:

u lišće umotane pošiljke svjetla

stabla gutaju kao kokoši glupu zob.

sa stablima je u tom trenutku svršeno

samo se to još ne zna. kao što krmača guta šaku.

plamen već šuška u džepu košulje, u njenim

naborima, i dan je svakako svjetliji.

na horizontu, njegovoj kičmi, njegovim dlakama

dva su sunca; šire njuška prisutnim mrakom.

ništa ono ne zadržava za sebe, nikud ne odlazi.

bez pomirenja; utihne tek kad dim upuže

u slijepu zob i tu ostane. sve će se opametiti;

sve će oko mene uskoro postati sunce,

misli sunce dok spaja grane s okolnim zrakom.

niz deblo k zemlji bježe vjeverice i zmije.

toplina, ne znajući si ime, silazi njime u meku

stvarnost i ono u sebi pulsira, tijesni se s pticama

u isto ludilo. zatim iz debla prodre životinja.

proždre koru i kreste konačno probiju površinu.

sada deblo u svojoj dubokoj šutnji kukuriječe.

upućuje u još jedan dan suviše sklon svom prolasku.

potom toplina pohrli niže. sklupča se, nečujna,

negdje u korijenju, svečanost stjerana u svoj početak,

u mudru mladost. požar sam sebe snažno poželi.

prostre se visokim raslinjem kao zora još tamnim

nebom, pozdrav jednom punom i praznom sobom.

poliže lišće, poliže koru, poliže korijen, sve

taj pomalo poliže. i bude bliže jednom i drugom.

niskom i visokom bude blizu, kratko započne

a onda nastavi s pustim poslom. sada se sve već trese:

između zraka i zemlje više ne stoji ništa.

neke su životinje otišle, a neke druge ostale ondje

gdje jesu. nad njima čitava šuma u nešto prelazi,

neopipljivo, voda u termama koja čisti i razbija, neka

stišana nečist koja bježi ali ne nestaje, zbija si redove.

i sve je negdje i sve je nigdje, i sve je osvijetljeno.

šumski požar to je kad gori šuma. požar to je

kad gori.

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