Groch, Erik: Home (Domov Angol nyelven)
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Domov (Szlovák)V uzlíku, kolíšucom sa na mäkkej palici z javora, nesiem si domov. Zároveň ma domov nesie vietor, kam chce. Čo je v uzlíku. Katechizmus z trpkého viniča. Stará zmluva a Nová zmluva, obe z čitateľnej, vysloviteľnej hliny. Litánie z vernej, cedenej krvi, ustavične presakujúcej ako smäd. A na dne uzlíka, celkom osobitne, žalmy viazané v koži z Treblinky: Mein Gott! Môj domov je cesta. Zároveň ma ustavične ktosi píska, ako chce. A spieva si ma. Som akýmsi dlhým, nikdy neprerušovaným tónom, notou tvoriacou sa z tvoriacich sa chromozómov. A zároveň akoby do mňa ktosi zhlboka vdychoval dušu, takže zvučím všetkými píštalami z mojich vyschýnajúcich kostí; krehučké, pergamenové gajdy v rukách toho-ktorý-je. Môj domov je pieseň. A zároveň ma ktosi odovzdane vzniká a premieňa a rastie. A zároveň ma tichučko vykračuje a našľapuje. A zároveň ma kráča. Môj domov je spiaca ruža, práve sa rozvíjajúca.
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Home (Angol)In a bundle, swaying on a soft maple cane, I carry my home.
At the same time, the wind carries me home, wherever it wants. What is there in the bundle. Catechism from sour wine. The Old Testament and the New Testament, both of readable, vocable clay. Litanies of faithful, percolated blood, constantly leaking like thirst. And on the bottom of the bundle, quite separate, psalms bound in the skin from Treblinka! Mein Gott! My home is a road. At the same time, someone constantly whistles me as he likes. And sings me along. I am a long, never-interrupted tone, a note forming out of forming chromosomes. And at the same time, as if someone was exhaling the soul in me from the bottom of his lungs, so I ring with all the pipes from my drying bones; fragile, parchment bagpipes in the hands of he-who-is. My home is a song. And at the same time, someone originates me resignedly and changes me and grows me. And at the same time very quietly it steps me out and treads me. And at the same time it paces me. My home is a sleeping rose, just unfolding.
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