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Barbara Korun
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KISS
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Poljub
katera beseda
ti spi na ustnicah
katera
katera pokrajina
žari pod vekami
katera
kateri glas
v školjki sluha
odzvanja
v ognju dotika
trepetavi odblesk
zlatih kril
Kiss
What word
sleeps on your lips,
what?
What landscape
glows beneath your eyelids,
what?
What voice
echoes
in the shell of the ear?
In the delicate fire of touch,
light rippling
from spread wings of gold.
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