Petra Bauman (1979) is a journalist, moderator for events, actress and poet. In 2008 she published her first book “Januar/January” at Zalozba Pivec, Maribor publishing house. Some poems are already translated into croatian and german language (published in austrian magazine for literature Lichtungen and bosnian magazine Novosarajevski knjizevni susreti).
**
Primitive woman
You have to know
when to give me the kiss of a cold frog,
when to leave me like the last whore,
and when to push the silver nail of desire into me.
You have to know when to sink me into the purple steam
of mating, when the male outlines the duel with his eyes,
before they destroy each other.
You have to know when to hold my face in your palms,
like that of a new-born, and when to cover my mouth with your hand.
You have to know when to wash me like a child
and call me Bambi,
and when to look away and go to your dumps.
You have to know when to feed me white bread,
and when to pour wine over me.
You have to know which of my nights are most full of screams.
The radio is playing,
and the snow gently falling.
**
Τhe journey
I will go to places
where people will call me by my name.
And I will also go to places where they won’t call me at all.
Where people with rough faces are;
places with glassy-eyed people and jingling curse words,
where delusional night singing and loud women’s laughter
quickly pull the lost one through the door.
I will go to places
where last thoughts spill over the edges of glasses,
where heads are put together, mumbling;
where women are dressed in black and men in white.
And I will absolutely go to places where people don’t stop smiling,
where wildfires are still burning,
and where unknown hands still pull you into dance.
Where a single tribe lives,
and you have several mothers and fathers,
and you wear the shoes of your brothers and sisters,
and you continue your kin and stop at a tiny point of the human ladder.
Where the bird sails peacefully …
… where, for a moment, you see yourself in the eyes of a Gypsy child.