Flood

Masons build houses and measure them
while I just dawdle.
There’s nothing to design anymore because there’s
a flood. I’m crazy from my hair to my toenails
and everything that comes out is gold.
But where will we go?
Imperialism sees imperialism in the mirror.
Even before Troy, people cried
that the land was tired.
For three thousand years we lived in a belly
and angels brushed our hair.
I throw angels like dust, and soundly.
Dante lived in the 17th century
so there are two mistakes and it’s poetic.
But three mistakes are also poetic.
Where will we go?

                          Translated from the Slovenian by Brian Henry