Rastoča knjiga
                         "Rastoča knjiga je več kot knjiga; je skrinja narodne zaveze; je duh, ki se nad časom dviga; je zvezda stalnica: ljubezen."  


Eugenio Montale - Mediterranean

Suddenly sometimes an hour falls
when your inhuman heart
terrifies us and divides from ours.
Your music now warps out of tune with mine,
your waves rank like the enemy.
I sink into myself, drained of my powers,
your voice rings hollow.
I make my stand upon this stony ground
that slopes to the steep cliff beetling above you,
crumbly, yellow, crosshatched
after rainwater’s scrambling.
My life is this dry slope,
way not end, sluice to the rivulets
of runoff, a landslide in slow motion.