David Bedrač

David Bedrač, born in 1978, is a slovenian poet, literary critic and author of literary and cultural articles. He is the author of six poetry books for adults: Neskončnost (1998), Poezija pomolov (2001), Pesmi iz šipe (2006), Centimetri sveta (2010), Tanka molčanja (2013) and Tvoj nakupovalni voziček (2014). He also writes children’s literature, he has published a collection of children’s poetry: Pesniška hiša (2008), Gugajčki in gugaji (2010) and So že smehci k vam prispeli (2014). He runs literary workshops and camps all across Slovenia as well as the Literary club in Ptuj. He has written a poetry handbook titled Brez uteži (2007). He is especially dedicated to the literary creativity of young people and contemporary slovenian poetry – he has written doctoral dissertation about. He has participated on several international festivals like Con sabor latino (2005), Spogledi (2007) and Dnevi poezije in vina (2010, 2012, 2013, 2014).


(Foto: Branimir Ritonja)


You are rummaging through the shelves. Beautiful snowy yoghurt –
a cup holding snow, you think to yourself.
What is a girl, who is also buying it, thinking?
Is she thinking about white milk, blood,
that covers the bottom of the cup and her life?
What about the old man? What about him? Did he think about the war,
when fear was snowing and hardened into a mortal landscape?

You are rummaging through the shelves. Luxurius chocolate –
I could smear myself in it and become dark
like Arabian beauty, black like Nimba.
Is it carrying the same thought to the boy/land on the left?
What are you thinking about, lad? About a woman's body
or a body of chocolate that you would lick from a woman's body?
And just how passionately is that woman soaking her eyes into chocolate.
Why is she laying her look in it?
Why is she seducing the rice in it?
Why is she lowering the price with the language of a wallet?
Why does she want it and not at the same time?

You are rummaging through the shelves. And filling up your shopping carts.
And pushing them away, but they return.
They summon you. And you come and buy.
And at the cashier's counter your wallet suspiciously
streches, becomes thinner, dries up and falls,
like a fall's leaf that a wind tears off a branch.
And a saleswoman gives you a nice look
and because during your shopping
you haven't hit anyone
with your shopping cart,
you get a silver sticker for a free parking
next time.


Translated by Filip Gračnar