Pod visokim bronastim kipom, sredi vzpenjajočih se stopnic, negibno in vendar v svoji notranjosti valujoče morje obrazov posluša Bachov koncert: odmev razsežnosti časa se zdi kot navdih. Stopim iz sence hiš, stoječih tesno druga ob drugi, in živa svetloba nad staromestnim trgom malone zaslepi spev.
largo
I
V ogledalu neba se zrcali neskončnost. Ležeš na hrbet v mokro travo in opazuješ, kako potuje rožnat oblak v vijoličen somrak. Potem z mislijo, počasi, še enkrat obideš prizor. Končnost se odmika v daljavo. Od znotraj prihaja zvok violine. Hiteč za zvokom, za odmevom tega zvoka, prispeš zadihan, ves moker od rose.
II
S toplim nemirom rok božaš, kot boža otrok grad iz sipine, vzpetine moje razprte golote. Z žejnim vonjem lepote polagaš na željni obok telesa poti, kamor greva objeta, pod brezmejnim lokom drevesa, velikim kot sinja ljubezen dneva. Vseh dni.
III
Soj medene lune sledi poti jezika, ki sredi obale okuša sok s svile kot cipresa vitkega telesa. Sledi zvezd sredi kožne jase, okopane v sladkosti vročice, se izgubljene v kipenju lastnih vzdihov križajo na razprti dlani noči. Zaprem oči, vse v meni ščemi in utripa. Tema odhaja in zora gori v svetlobo dozorele strasti.
IV
Na postelji, še topli od ljubljenja, ostaja z meglico zaspanega sonca izslikan odtis. Vdihavam vonj iz rjuhe pomečkane, kjer si le malo prej iz ikebane mojega telesa odpoljubil pesmi, prej še neprebrane. Skozi lino noči se zlati odhajajoča mesečina in z njo tvoj zapis, Selena, luna, obsijana s svetlobo karmina.
andante
I
V prahu sipkega peska sva pustila goli obris utripov srca, z vitkimi prsti zarisan napis za nevidne bogove neba. Vetrovi, skriti pod krili ptic, podijo kopaste oblake, lebdeče nad širnim zalivom. Ob glasovih milih strun južnih vetrov, z zlatilom osončnenih jader, vodiš belo barko v pristan. Splivkana voda pomirja, boža.
II
Z okusom srebrne pene valov zori jutro na belih svilenih prevlekah soli, ki jih še ni spral dež z odprtega morja. S slutnjo sladkosti svitanja se selim v resničnost z vrhov najvišjih slasti, kjer drhtijo sanje. Tvoja koža diši po bakreni zagorelosti, ki se ogreje v pohotnosti vod. Odpiram in zapiram se, školjka, na poroznih policah, s katerih se morje umika in se vrača nanje.
III
Glas neznanih morskih ptic, ki reže zatišje spečega morja, vabi v čarne privide, skrite za robom obzorja. Pred zarjo, ki sine, srkam vase magične meje slasti, ovite med nevidne čeri nebeških polj, ki jih prekriva presojna, drhteča tančica jutranje rose. Na oltar drobnih prsi z vihravo slo kot Eol, bog vetrov, daruješ orošeno telo.
IV
Katedralo z dvema zvonikoma in majhnimi starinskimi stolpiči, dvigajočimi se z ostrimi konicami proti oblakom, in baročne linije niš okoli nje, barva rdečkast nadih. Tvoj dih, ki je usoda, zaspi ob mojem vratu, izčrpan in sladko utrujen. Le vrišč angelskih glasov, napolnjen s poželenjem, še vznemirja tiho noč.
allegro vivo
I
Zvok neujemljive domišljije nagovarja z nagajivim bliščem in sijajem. Po kotih terase, na bambusovih prečnikih, so posejani redki in skrivnostno dišeči cvetovi divje azaleje. Dih svežine preveva resast škrlat pravljične preje in prsi prešinja velika, nedopovedljivo lepa sreča. Sredi njenih valujočih glasov se zdim kot posoda, ki jo z grozdjem polniš, Bakhus, da me piješ sladko, da me mamiš.
II
Kot krhko vazo iz porcelana me krasiš s cvetjem besed in mi čute pretresaš kot burja, ki plane v ječeče bore otoka. Srčni utrip si, rdeča mana, drget, ki me oživlja, vznemirjenje, ki ude razvezuje. Vihar si, ki polje v meni. Kri. In roka, ki po boku polzi. Na obokih ruševin z Mane zarana stoka galeb od užitka.
III
Vsako jutro znova vzide sonce skozi tvoje od sle v tanke reže priprte oči, iz katerih zeleno vre vse, kar me opaja. Vedrina si, smeh, ki škreblja po bleščavi zob sredi poletja. Ujeta v trepet tvojih rok, v vsak tvoj zamaknjen pogled in pod zaprtimi vekami v niz podob sem, kot otrok, nemirna v pričakovanju: kot igriva galeba sva, ki ne iščeva zavetja pod prostranim obokom neba.
IV
Potopljena v oranžno sončavo, zamaknjena v ekstazi, otrpla v vonju, ki se skozi pore plazi, se nad penečim se valom morja loviva s pogledi. V očeh, ki vidijo vse, tudi na videz najnepomembnejše podrobnosti, je vsak dotik svečana podoba, ki jo s prsti mehko izpisuješ po koži. Takrat so v zraku, ki ima barvo in vonj tvoje polti, večeri podobni biserni roži.
piano
I
Pročelja ljubkih hiš in kupole cerkvice, obrnjene proti vzhodu in osvetljene z jutranjo zarjo, barva harmonski akord, rahel in nežen kot prvi poljub. Nemirna svetloba se spušča iz ozkih oken visoko nad oboki in objema pozlate na baročnih okvirjih prelepih slik. Na oltarju visi podoba neba, ki ga pokriva deviška barva, svetla kot žarek v željnih očeh. Iz velikih orgel lije lilast slap melodij, ki drhti v razkošju obljub.
II
Bronast zven zvonov lebdi v mraku. S paleto občutkov, vpletenih v svilo dolgih, svetlih las, me razvajaš do tančin, globoko, v dno vesolja. Dvigujeva se na krilih te lebdeče melodije: ko slediš premenam v hiši moje duše, se vse tvoje bitje vanjo prelije. Krošnje dreves pojejo v večernem zraku.
III
Čarobna podoba žarečih odbleskov se blešči od mokrote. V neustavljivem ritmu letiva više in više, do vratu potopljena v neulovljiv odmev potujočih valov. Spodaj se peni tenko speta mesečina. Čisto z vrha odplavam lahno in počasi kot peresce z neba.
IV
Ob oknu, kjer slutim globino večera, trepetajo krila nočnega metulja, na katerih so izvezena bleščeča očesa. V kotu oči se rosi milina. V tvojem naročju, ljubljena kot violina, vzdignjena v vrh zvezdne ceste, na pobočju beline neba le s krili lebdim, angel, brez telesa.
Underneath a tall bronze statue, half-way up some climbing steps, a sea of faces, still, but swelling from within, listens to a Bach Concerto: the echoing expanse of time seems like an inspiration. I leave the shadows of the huddling houses, while the vibrant light spilling over the old-town square almost drowns the song.
Largo
I
The mirror of the sky reflects infinity. You lie down on your back in damp grass and watch a pink cloud sail into the violet dusk. Then slowly—in your thoughts—you see it once again. Finitude draws into distance. The sound of violin comes from within. Chasing the sound, the echo of the sound, you arrive, gasping, and covered in dew.
II
With the warm restlessness of hands, you caress, like a child caresses castles out of sand, the mounds of my unfolded bareness. With the hungry smell of beauty, you cover the aching curves of my body with roads which we walk embraced, under the endless arch of the tree, as immense as the azure love of the day. Of all days.
III
The moon’s honey glow on the shore follows the trail of the tongue tasting the sap from the silken body, slender as a cypress tree. Traces of stars in the clearing of skin, bathed in sweet fever, criss-cross the open palm of the night, lost in the seething of their own sighs. I close my eyes; everything within me is burning and pulsing. Darkness is leaving and dawn is burning in the flush of ripe passion.
IV
In the bed still warm from making love, an imprint remains, painted in the mist of a sleepy sun. I breathe in the scent of the crumpled sheet where you’ve just kissed away poems never read before from the ikebana of my body. The waning moonlight gilds the window of night, and your inscription, Selene, Luna, glowing in carmine light.
Andante
I
In the dust of dry sand, we left the naked outlines of our heartbeats, inscriptions made with lean fingers for the invisible gods of the sky. The winds, hidden underneath birds’ wings, chase the fluffy clouds gliding over the expanse of the bay. With the soft voices of southerly winds and golden sunlight in the sails, you steer your boat into the harbour. The rippled water soothes, caresses.
II
Tasting of the waves’ silver foam, the morning ripens on the silky white covers of salt that haven’t been washed away by the rains from the open sea. With the premonition of sweet dawn I move to reality from the highest heights of ecstasy, the place of trembling dreams. Your skin smells of the copper tan heated in lustful waters. I open and close, a seashell on the porous ledges from which the sea pulls back, only to take them again.
III
The voice of strange seabirds that cuts the calm of the sleeping sea lures into charmful visions hiding behind the horizon. Before the breaking of dawn, I soak up the magic limits of ecstasy spun round the invisible rocks in the heavenly fields, covered by the translucent, shivering veil of the morning dew. At the altar of small breasts you offer up your dewy body with the tumultuous lust of Aeolus, god of the winds.
IV
The cathedral with two bell towers and small ancient turrets rising in sharp pinnacles towards the clouds, and the baroque lines of the encircling niches, are glowing in a reddish hue. Your breath, my destiny, sleeps against my neck, worn out with sweet exhaustion. Only the cries of angelic voices, full of lust, disturb the quiet night.
Allegro vivo
I
The sound of uncatchable imagination speaks with playful lustre and spark. In the corners of the terrace, on bamboo canes, a few blossoms of the mysteriously smelling wild azalea are dotted around. A whiff of freshness breathes through the fringed purple of fairy-tale yarn and my chest is imbued with great, unspeakably beautiful happiness. Amid its swelling voices, I seem like a vessel you fill with grapes, Bacchus, to dink me sweet, to tempt me.
II
You adorn me like a fragile porcelain vase with blossoms of words and shake my senses like the northerly wind that rushes into the moaning pines of the island. You are a heartbeat, red manna, a shudder of life, a thrill untying my limbs. A tempest that swells in me. Blood. A hand that slides down my hip. From the arches of the ruins on Mana, a seagull cries out with pleasure.
III
Each morning anew the sun rises through your eyes, narrowed into slits with lust, and everything gushes out greenly and sates me. You are brightness, laughter tingling on the sparkle of teeth in high summer. I am caught in the trembling of your hands, in your every pensive gaze, and in a line of images under closed eyelids, like a child, restless in expectation: we are like playful seagulls that do not look for shelter under the expanse of the sky.
IV
Immersed in the orange sunglow, entranced in ecstasy, numbed by the scent crawling through the pores, we catch each other’s eye over the white-capped waves. In the eyes that see everything, even the seemingly most unimportant details, every touch is a solemn image that your fingers softly outline on my skin. Then the air, with the hue and scent of your tan, seems like a blossom of pearl.
Piano
I
The fronts of charming houses and the cupola of the little church facing east, lit up with the morning dawn, are coloured by a harmonic chord, soft and gentle like a first kiss. Restless light is moving down from narrow windows high above the arches, embracing the gold on the baroque frames of wonderful paintings. At the altar, an image of the heavens hangs, covered in virginal colour, bright as the glimmer in hungry eyes. From the great organ pours a purple cascade of melody, quivering in the plenty of promise.
II
The bronze chime of bells hangs in the air. With a palette of senses, entwined in the silk of long fair hair, you indulge my every fibre, profoundly, to the deepest depths of the universe. We rise on the wings of this gliding melody: as you follow the movements in the house of my soul, all your being pours into it. Treetops sing in the evening air.
III
The magic image of glowing reflections is glistening with wetness. In an unstoppable rhythm we fly higher and higher, immersed to our necks in the unchatchable echo of travelling waves. Underneath, the soft-woven moonlight sparkles. From the very top, I swim down gently and slowly, like a feather from the sky.
IV
By the window, where I feel the deep of the evening, the wings of a night butterfly flutter, embroidered with gleamy eyespots. In the corner of the eye, grace is gathering in a drop. In your arms, loved like a violin, lifted to the top of the stars, on the slope of the whiteness of sky, I glide on nothing but wings, an angel, bodiless.
