Kralj

Sestavljen iz starih razpadlih verig,
iz preluknjanega železa,
z lepim obrazom,
razjedenim od poljubov zavrženih žensk,
tujec sebi in meni,
je vstal pred mano kralj,
kronan s krono iz temnih misli.

Kje so tvoja kraljestva, kralj, sem ga vprašal.
Zmajal je z glavo proti večerni strani.

Gledal sem njegovo roko.
Roko, ki je ubila. Vse, kar je imela rada.
S prsti iz železa. Črvivega od rje.
S petimi prstani. Oslepelimi,
ker so jim draguljaste oči ukradli požrešni ptiči jutra.

Kje so tvoji mrliči kralj, sem ga vprašal.
Zmajal je z glavo proti večerni strani.

In spomnil sem se na kralja z zlatom v očeh.
Z zlatimi usti, z zlatim smehom med mehkimi zobmi.
S srcem iz bele mesečine.
Kralja, ki sem ga poznal. Ki sem ga hotel.

Kje si kralj mojih noči, sem ga vprašal.
Zmajal je z glavo proti večerni strani.

In vstal je kralj pred mano.
Kralj z zarjavelim obrazom.
Kralj s hrošči v prsih. Požrešnimi hrošči.
S pisanimi očmi. Sestavljenimi iz barv žalosti in zla.
Z gibom železne roke, ki je me je hotel. Zase. Le zase.
Za kraljevskega sužnja.

Kaj hočeš od mene, kralj, sem ga vprašal.
Zmajal je z glavo proti večerni strani.

In ko sem pogledal proti večerni stran,
sem videl sence nad kužno reko.
In v sencah ples zlatih mrličev.
Z razbitimi dragulji v prsih.
In v reki pogubljeno življenje,
ki plava v lačna usta večerne dežele,
in kralja, ki mi vžiga v prsi
temno podobo kraljevskega sovraštva.

King

Put together with old decrepit chains,
made out of perforated iron,
with a handsome face,
eroded from kisses of discarded women,
a stranger to himself and myself,
stood a king before me,
crowned with a crown of dark thoughts.

Where are your kingdoms, king, I asked him.
He nodded towards the evening side.

I watched his hand.
The hand that killed. Everything it loved.
With fingers of iron. Rotted of rust.
With five rings. Blinded,
because their jewel eyes were stolen by
rapacious birds of the morning.

Where are your corpses, king, I asked him.
He nodded towards the evening side.

And I remembered a king with golden
eyes.
With golden lips and a golden laughter
between his delicate teeth.
With a white moonlit heart.
A king I knew. A one I wanted.

Where are you, king of my dreams, I asked him.
He nodded towards the evening side.

And a king got up before me.
A king with a corroded face.
A king with bugs in his chest. Starved
bugs.
With crazy eyes. Dyed with colors of
sorrow and evil.
With a hand, that reached for me. To have
for himself. Only for himself.
His royal slave.

What do you want from me, king, I asked him.
He nodded towards the evening side.

And when I turned towards the evening
side,
I saw shadows over a poisonous river.
And in the shadows, a dance of golden
corpses.
With shattered jewels upon their chests.
And in the river, wasted life,
that flows into the ravenous mouth of the
evening land,
and the king, branding into my chest
the dark image of a royal detestation.