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The rolling, trees glue debauchery                            
the dead Christ, a cavalry, white nun’s handkerchiefs
a wrinkled canvas, he looks vigorous and barefoot
splendid and killed, handsome with dark brown soles    
on the right the typical iconographic logs, a little cat                
Tobias with a hump on his apex, with his hand on the chest of logos’ march 
ladybugs carry messages, a gentlewoman plays chess
the meeting point of poachers                                                                        
Tyssen with Giovanna Tornabuoni
we fix the frame with a screw, with threads
with nickeled pulley bought in hardware store
you’ll be buried beneath, heated cavalry
torn down by colonnades with profiles        
algae, scents, Moses in the arms with a model of poison
food and indifference of lucidity            
two young fiancÚs with a horse and a mirror
dry yellowish corpse, blue millimeter paper
what do you sing? a lullaby? a meditation in the chasuble?   
palm trees? birds above the sea and crocodiles?
how the door develops?                                 
how does Don Fernando Nino de Guevara sleep?
the calendar, the calendar, towers, a  wet grass                      
the smelly flesh and the treatise about sanctity of the family
papal nuncios, a tall willow tree, the blood softly running away
the celebration,  the bread on viola da gamba                
in the antechamber the dog
in the fine woven basket little spoons lacquered with faith
the rolling, the passion of cattle, of skaters, seducing the rhythm
having in the hand pornography and trembling
flowers, plankton, Christmas cribs and colored rocks                
this gives us the power to breathe, this gives the power  to sense the pen
let us peel little Flemish girls with sharp scent

     Translated from the Slovenian by Michael Thomas Taren and the author