Prosim, hodite po prstih. / Please, whisper around me.

Pišem seminarsko nalogo o slovenskih sodobnih pesnicah.

Kot otroška roka

Ko se veja cvetoče jablane obarva rožnato,
spominja na roko spečega otroka:
zaupljivo se steza kvišku
in srečna drhte oklepa zrak,
kjer je bila še malo prej mamina roka;
kjer je bilo še malo prej ljubo sonce.

(Neža Maurer)

I'm writting an essay about Slovenian poets.

Like a child's hand

When the apple blossom bough
Turns to pink
It makes one think
Of a sleeping child –
Trustingly reaching upwards,
Tremulously, happily fingering the air
Where, earlier, had been
The mother's hand;
Where, earlier, had been
The darling sun.

(Neža Maurer)