O my Slovenia, fanatically mild
and unknown! Empire’s glove-compartment,
land of modestly-priced swimwear and cheese,
and the capital with the loveliest name.
I fancied the hills full of knee-high bears.
Walking among vineyards I found a toy
scorpion pricking the air above its head,
defying you and your army’s ignorant bootheels
and taking for victory the nearest gap,
reversible-into, in the dry stone wall.
The bells peeled on the hour in honour
of Our Lady of the Tape Recorder.
There was no bell-ringer. There were no bells.
1 comment:
In one of his books (I forget which) Žižek relates this anecdote about a Slovenian student who when called up for military service refused to sign the free oath of allegiance. Before he was sent to prison the military court handed down a paradoxical decision: an order to sign a free oath.
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