SlovoKult :: Covidivision

text :: vision

Crauss :: Ivan Ivanovski


BORDER CROSSING  :: Deutsch ::  Македонски :: 

medium format 1963


when you come out,

it’s snowing. still.

in the buttery white

snow, a line of officers

stands out, on the empty

long square.

if one breathes one smells,

warm, a cloud full of time, drawn

from corner to

house corner. time

between the years, the

coal a scorched scent in the

red cabbage.

vaguely convoluted

in the block, the huge

square, in flat white, in the

snow a row

of soldiers. the dogs

are searching and panting,

you can see

them, from the car.

if you happen to come out,

it’ll snow. you get

out at the train station,

you exit the side door,

escaping. the urgency

cuts coldly through

your lungs, you

find neither car

nor man. you force yourself

to saunter, the

snow is an echo,

a vague, blurry

eye of wire; charged.

from time to time a

song of certainty melts away

in the square.


translation by :: Mark Kanak


Ivan Ivanovski :: Slippery-slope