The Spindle Shouldn’t Come in the Window
Carmelite nuns are barefoot.
The spindle is afraid of the peacock.
Carmelite nuns seize the blue sheet,
they lift it above their heads and howl.
I’m a Carmelite nun, I’m
a Carmelite nun. All four of them.
On all four corners. Then they run
barefoot on the soft grass with
the taut blue sheet. They put it on
the grass. Their feet palms jet.
We hear gurgling. They’re not Carmelite
nuns anymore, dipped in the water.
They cry and become dried
chamomile, irrespective of.
Vreteno naj ne pride v okno
Karmeličanke so bose.
Vreteno se pava boji.
Karmeličanke zgrabijo modro rjuho,
jo dvignejo nad glavo in tulijo.
Jaz sem karmeličanka, jaz
sem karmeličanka! Vse štiri. Na
vseh štirih kotih. Potem tečejo
bose po mehki travi z napeto modro
rjuho. Položijo jo na travo.
Stopala jim brizgajo.
Sliši se klokotanje. Niso več
karmeličanke, potopljene v vodo.
Jočejo in postanejo posušene
kamilice, ne glede.
Translated from the Slovenian by Michael Thomas Taren and the author
