After a long absence, I'm back with another translation of one of my faourite poets - Edvard Kocbek. The original title in Slovene is "Pred Figovcem", "In Front of the Figovec", which is a famous tavern just oudside the old city centre of Ljubljana. The tavern actually still exists, although I don't think it is the place when you can see the type of people described in the poem. In the meantime, they've moved elswhere, becoming more and more numerous.
In Front of a Tavern in Ljubljana
They sit stiffly, alien and tired
as if they had just stepped out from the vehicles,
gone through an enormously long race,
forgetting where they came from,
whom did they race,
why and where their goals were set.
Their eyes stagger with greed,
they carry countless twists within them,
and a dizzy, leveled path.
Speed kept carrying them away,
throwing them swiftly up in the air
and dangerously separating them from ground.
They cannot save themselves from daze,
for they keep having problems
with something that passionately surrounds them,
as though, besides the infinite horizon
and themselves, there was nothing else
on this abundantly abandoned world.
