By Pavol Janik
Always when I think of you
dawn breaks above Buenos Aires
and the Atlantic has the inexplicable color of your eyes.
Exotic birds
nest on out TV aerial
until the announcer
has a pearly hairdo
and complete blonde smile.
She claims that eternity has already lasted a whole year.
The weather forecast
announces in her place
a rainbow parrot.
For our wedding route
it wishes us little cloudiness
and success at least as large as the discovery of America
or the record flight of the ostrich from Australia
to the zoological gardens of Europe.
Always when I think of you
dawn breaks above Buenos Aires
and the wind whirls the pamphlets
of all the airlines in the world.
The Atlantic does not admit any other continent.
It’s clear as a stone of precious clarity.
Despite its twinkling depth it resembles a question
which posed passionately by your body.
Children search tirelessly for an answer
till now unwritten in books
and cut out colorful pictures from it.
It happens at home
behind whose windows fireworks blaze every evening.
Always when I think of you
dawn breaks above Buenos Aires.
And today, too, the Atlantic is completely upset.
It’s completely bashful
as its accustomed only to invisible phenomena.
(1981)
Languages