A Suicide In Front Of A Mirror

by

Srecko Kosovel


A suicide in front of a mirror.

A frightened soul.

The wind moans in the black forest.

The night's tempest rips my heart from my chest.


My soul, you are like the Flying Dutchman,

always returning to the primal darkness,

getting drunk on the blowing of the wind!

A police officer blowing his whistle.


It's frightening to be a brother to the storm!

Frightening to be brother to the silver sun.

Stay broken and murdered, my soul;

don't look to the dead slopes for salvation.


I walk through the forest. The tree trunks are black.

Two are leaning towards each other.

The black chasm of the universe above me.

I am leaning into it

and listening.


I walk through the forest. The tree trunks are black.

Two are leaning towards each other.

The black chasm of the universe above me.

I am leaning into it

and listening.



Go Back