Great Britain
SABATO’S PHOTOGRAPH
On my table — shapes of letters, a few quotations
and a recent photograph of Ernesto Sabato.
There he is, smiled with a raised eyebrow
Walking towards the lense. (Even so we don’t
see each other.) Then, notes for a short essay
about a new edition of Tunnel, writen for the next
issue of our weekly. While watching
the elderly face and unrealised eyes, i actually
think of the one and onlyu reader. More or less the same people
are going to read the prose I ‘m talking about,
and my poem, which I ‘m writing right now.
The same people, this one amn, have reda this
somewhere else at least once — on some other form,
signed by others, and — which happens most often –
with a different order of words, if not already
similar to this. The same people have, in different places,
found the menaning, or failed to notice it — in essays,
poems, in everything that’s Ever been written. Even so, I go on writing;
like this, I may sometimes surpass reality. I also set sail
towards sin, my good Juan Pablo!
Translated by Evald Flisar
FRANCE
SABATO’S PHOTOGRAPH
On my table — shapes of letters, a few quotations
and a recent photograph of Ernesto Sabato.
There he is, smiled with a raised eyebrow
Walking towards the lense. (Even so we don’t
see each other.) Then, notes for a short essay
about a new edition of Tunnel, writen for the next
issue of our weekly. While watching
the elderly face and unrealised eyes, i actually
think of the one and onlyu reader. More or less the same people
are going to read the prose I ‘m talking about,
and my poem, which I ‘m writing right now.
The same people, this one amn, have reda this
somewhere else at least once — on some other form,
signed by others, and — which happens most often –
with a different order of words, if not already
similar to this. The same people have, in different places,
found the menaning, or failed to notice it — in essays,
poems, in everything that’s Ever been written. Even so, I go on writing;
like this, I may sometimes surpass reality. I also set sail
towards sin, my good Juan Pablo!
Translated by Evald Flisar
Germany
SABATO’S PHOTOGRAPH
On my table — shapes of letters, a few quotations
and a recent photograph of Ernesto Sabato.
There he is, smiled with a raised eyebrow
Walking towards the lense. (Even so we don’t
see each other.) Then, notes for a short essay
about a new edition of Tunnel, writen for the next
issue of our weekly. While watching
the elderly face and unrealised eyes, i actually
think of the one and onlyu reader. More or less the same people
are going to read the prose I ‘m talking about,
and my poem, which I ‘m writing right now.
The same people, this one amn, have reda this
somewhere else at least once — on some other form,
signed by others, and — which happens most often –
with a different order of words, if not already
similar to this. The same people have, in different places,
found the menaning, or failed to notice it — in essays,
poems, in everything that’s Ever been written. Even so, I go on writing;
like this, I may sometimes surpass reality. I also set sail
towards sin, my good Juan Pablo!
Translated by Evald Flisar
Italia
SABATO’S PHOTOGRAPH
On my table — shapes of letters, a few quotations
and a recent photograph of Ernesto Sabato.
There he is, smiled with a raised eyebrow
Walking towards the lense. (Even so we don’t
see each other.) Then, notes for a short essay
about a new edition of Tunnel, writen for the next
issue of our weekly. While watching
the elderly face and unrealised eyes, i actually
think of the one and onlyu reader. More or less the same people
are going to read the prose I ‘m talking about,
and my poem, which I ‘m writing right now.
The same people, this one amn, have reda this
somewhere else at least once — on some other form,
signed by others, and — which happens most often –
with a different order of words, if not already
similar to this. The same people have, in different places,
found the menaning, or failed to notice it — in essays,
poems, in everything that’s Ever been written. Even so, I go on writing;
like this, I may sometimes surpass reality. I also set sail
towards sin, my good Juan Pablo!
Translated by Evald Flisar
Albania
SABATO’S PHOTOGRAPH
On my table — shapes of letters, a few quotations
and a recent photograph of Ernesto Sabato.
There he is, smiled with a raised eyebrow
Walking towards the lense. (Even so we don’t
see each other.) Then, notes for a short essay
about a new edition of Tunnel, writen for the next
issue of our weekly. While watching
the elderly face and unrealised eyes, i actually
think of the one and onlyu reader. More or less the same people
are going to read the prose I ‘m talking about,
and my poem, which I ‘m writing right now.
The same people, this one amn, have reda this
somewhere else at least once — on some other form,
signed by others, and — which happens most often –
with a different order of words, if not already
similar to this. The same people have, in different places,
found the menaning, or failed to notice it — in essays,
poems, in everything that’s Ever been written. Even so, I go on writing;
like this, I may sometimes surpass reality. I also set sail
towards sin, my good Juan Pablo!
Translated by Evald Flisar
Poland
SABATO’S PHOTOGRAPH
On my table — shapes of letters, a few quotations
and a recent photograph of Ernesto Sabato.
There he is, smiled with a raised eyebrow
Walking towards the lense. (Even so we don’t
see each other.) Then, notes for a short essay
about a new edition of Tunnel, writen for the next
issue of our weekly. While watching
the elderly face and unrealised eyes, i actually
think of the one and onlyu reader. More or less the same people
are going to read the prose I ‘m talking about,
and my poem, which I ‘m writing right now.
The same people, this one amn, have reda this
somewhere else at least once — on some other form,
signed by others, and — which happens most often –
with a different order of words, if not already
similar to this. The same people have, in different places,
found the menaning, or failed to notice it — in essays,
poems, in everything that’s Ever been written. Even so, I go on writing;
like this, I may sometimes surpass reality. I also set sail
towards sin, my good Juan Pablo!
Translated by Evald Flisar
Russia
SABATO’S PHOTOGRAPH
On my table — shapes of letters, a few quotations
and a recent photograph of Ernesto Sabato.
There he is, smiled with a raised eyebrow
Walking towards the lense. (Even so we don’t
see each other.) Then, notes for a short essay
about a new edition of Tunnel, writen for the next
issue of our weekly. While watching
the elderly face and unrealised eyes, i actually
think of the one and onlyu reader. More or less the same people
are going to read the prose I ‘m talking about,
and my poem, which I ‘m writing right now.
The same people, this one amn, have reda this
somewhere else at least once — on some other form,
signed by others, and — which happens most often –
with a different order of words, if not already
similar to this. The same people have, in different places,
found the menaning, or failed to notice it — in essays,
poems, in everything that’s Ever been written. Even so, I go on writing;
like this, I may sometimes surpass reality. I also set sail
towards sin, my good Juan Pablo!
Translated by Evald Flisar
Slovakia
SABATO’S PHOTOGRAPH
On my table — shapes of letters, a few quotations
and a recent photograph of Ernesto Sabato.
There he is, smiled with a raised eyebrow
Walking towards the lense. (Even so we don’t
see each other.) Then, notes for a short essay
about a new edition of Tunnel, writen for the next
issue of our weekly. While watching
the elderly face and unrealised eyes, i actually
think of the one and onlyu reader. More or less the same people
are going to read the prose I ‘m talking about,
and my poem, which I ‘m writing right now.
The same people, this one amn, have reda this
somewhere else at least once — on some other form,
signed by others, and — which happens most often –
with a different order of words, if not already
similar to this. The same people have, in different places,
found the menaning, or failed to notice it — in essays,
poems, in everything that’s Ever been written. Even so, I go on writing;
like this, I may sometimes surpass reality. I also set sail
towards sin, my good Juan Pablo!
Translated by Evald Flisar
Sweden
SABATO’S PHOTOGRAPH
On my table — shapes of letters, a few quotations
and a recent photograph of Ernesto Sabato.
There he is, smiled with a raised eyebrow
Walking towards the lense. (Even so we don’t
see each other.) Then, notes for a short essay
about a new edition of Tunnel, writen for the next
issue of our weekly. While watching
the elderly face and unrealised eyes, i actually
think of the one and onlyu reader. More or less the same people
are going to read the prose I ‘m talking about,
and my poem, which I ‘m writing right now.
The same people, this one amn, have reda this
somewhere else at least once — on some other form,
signed by others, and — which happens most often –
with a different order of words, if not already
similar to this. The same people have, in different places,
found the menaning, or failed to notice it — in essays,
poems, in everything that’s Ever been written. Even so, I go on writing;
like this, I may sometimes surpass reality. I also set sail
towards sin, my good Juan Pablo!
Translated by Evald Flisar
Slovenija
SABATO’S PHOTOGRAPH
On my table — shapes of letters, a few quotations
and a recent photograph of Ernesto Sabato.
There he is, smiled with a raised eyebrow
Walking towards the lense. (Even so we don’t
see each other.) Then, notes for a short essay
about a new edition of Tunnel, writen for the next
issue of our weekly. While watching
the elderly face and unrealised eyes, i actually
think of the one and onlyu reader. More or less the same people
are going to read the prose I ‘m talking about,
and my poem, which I ‘m writing right now.
The same people, this one amn, have reda this
somewhere else at least once — on some other form,
signed by others, and — which happens most often –
with a different order of words, if not already
similar to this. The same people have, in different places,
found the menaning, or failed to notice it — in essays,
poems, in everything that’s Ever been written. Even so, I go on writing;
like this, I may sometimes surpass reality. I also set sail
towards sin, my good Juan Pablo!
Translated by Evald Flisar
North Macedonia
SABATO’S PHOTOGRAPH
On my table — shapes of letters, a few quotations
and a recent photograph of Ernesto Sabato.
There he is, smiled with a raised eyebrow
Walking towards the lense. (Even so we don’t
see each other.) Then, notes for a short essay
about a new edition of Tunnel, writen for the next
issue of our weekly. While watching
the elderly face and unrealised eyes, i actually
think of the one and onlyu reader. More or less the same people
are going to read the prose I ‘m talking about,
and my poem, which I ‘m writing right now.
The same people, this one amn, have reda this
somewhere else at least once — on some other form,
signed by others, and — which happens most often –
with a different order of words, if not already
similar to this. The same people have, in different places,
found the menaning, or failed to notice it — in essays,
poems, in everything that’s Ever been written. Even so, I go on writing;
like this, I may sometimes surpass reality. I also set sail
towards sin, my good Juan Pablo!
Translated by Evald Flisar