“The Look of Consciousness” in “What We Are When We Are / Kaj smo, ko smo”
The Look of Consciousness 
When we wait on the morning platform
of the drowsy station in our business chic,
our breath rises like the smoke over the engines.
To get our keenness warmed up we check
the day’s schedule on our mobile:
minutes accumulate into meetings,
hours get jammed in blizzards of talks
where everyone secretly looks for the exit
beyond which, swimming like carp
in a fish pond, are words for personal use,
the ones that we will scarf down in the corridor,
so work gets easier to take. There is no entry
for the moments when face and soul will tiredly look
at each other through the window of the day—
in a moment tables and graphs will add up to a zero
in which the heart swims like an egg yolk.
At last a loudspeaker announces our train. Bitterly
cold we step from the shelter to the platform edge,
and when I look at the rails I get dizzy,
somebody in the depths of consciousness
makes for the surface, somebody within me
suddenly grabs my wrist, somebody who at the same
time both is and is not whispers:
even without Vronsky we may be Anna.
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