Yesterday a poem happened and I made a point of writing it down. To it I add a gallery of pointy sights from Ljubljana, the capital of Slovenia, my city of origin.
A weird thing happened yesterday.
First it was the drop of blood that I describe in the poem. You see, I had to write it since I had just read a wonderful poem by Romana Iorga and, boy, did her spark fly directly into my keyboard. I love it when this happens. Blogging brings such rewards.
Here is my poem and this is how it went:
A Spot of Blood
I spot a spot of blood.
It is on the floor next to our furnace,
right where I just got dressed after the shower.
My child-bearing years are over,
or are they?
My body is in limbo,
it doesn’t know which way to go.
But no more bleeding.
At least I thought it was over.
That spot is there though,
waiting to be investigated.
Knowing I will.
But he had a shower too, just earlier.
What if it was him?
Which is even scarier.
Or the dog?
I spot another spot.
On the way from the bathroom.
This is serious.
I go to look in the mirror.
My face is slightly panicky
Had to be him then.
I tear a single white sheet
off the toilet paper roll
Immediately I see that something is not right.
Instead of the hue I learned to expect
there is a purple tinge.
Yes, I have just put my last night’s wine glass away.
Why do you ask?
It seemed empty to me…
And so I danced.
As you can see, a happy end. The weird thing happened after I put it on Facebook.
I posted it in English just how I wrote it. First an Italian friend, who speaks only Italian, puts a laugh to it. Then my father writes to ask me if I wrote it since one comma is wrong. You see, I am a bit of a comma queen (hihi) and usually have them right – but in Slovenian, not in English. It’s when he asks me why I wrote it like a man that I really start to pay attention and confirm it with other Slovenian friends.
It’s true: Facebook decided all on its own to translate my poem into Slovenian for Slovenian users, and probably into Italian for Italian users, and possibly into your language, whichever that might be, only for the Americans and Brits and Australians it was left in English.
The translation was awful, as you can guess. And the worst part was that the process was irreversible. My Slovenian friends were not able to see the poem in English as I had written it at all (which is usually the case if you click to see the original). Only then I found the option “turn off translations” in the settings.
This is what the future brings then. Your words will be stolen from you at the source and turned into robotic nonsense.
With this point I turn your attention to various pointy things in Ljubljana, my city, until it wasn’t. As I promised Flavia, who loved it so much during her first visit last year, I have some things to add to her collection of hangings on the wall. A sausage, for example, but there is more. Welcome!
But the pointiest thing in Ljubljana – the dragon’s tail – is missing on purpose. Ljubljana Dragons will get their own post.
In response to Patrick Jennings’ Pic and a Word Challenge #215: Point