Aleš ŠTEGER (Slovenia) is a poet and prose writer who has published seven books of poems, three novels and two collections of essays. He has received the title Chevalier des Artes et Lettres from France and is a member of the German Academy for Language and Literature. He has earned the International Bienek Prize for Poetry, the Petrarch Prize for Young European Authors, the Veronika Award and the Rožanc Award. His works have been translated into fifteen languages, such as Chinese, Czech, Croatian, German, Hungarian, Spanish, etc. Šteger is also a visual artist; his installations have appeared at the International Kochi-Muziris Arts Biennale in India. He has collaborated with musicians and film directors.
When you kill it at the edge of the pan, you don’t notice
That the egg grows an eye in death.
It is so small, it doesn’t satisfy
Even the most modest morning appetite.
But it already watches, already stares at your world.
What are its horizons, whose glassy-eyed perspectives?
Does it see time, which moves carelessly through space?
Eyeballs, eyeballs, cracked shells, chaos or order?
Big questions for such a little eye at such an early hour.
And you—do you really want an answer?
When you sit down, eye to eye, behind a table,
You blind it soon enough with a crust of bread.
(Translated by Brian Henry)