Aleš Šteger's poem "Egg," from his collection of translated poetry The Book of Things, was chosen to feature as today's Poem of the Day by the American Academy of Poets. Translated by Brian Henry, Šteger's poetry often focuses on simple, everyday objects, but in his poetry these normal items become strange, new, and utterly other. Today's "Egg" is written in this tradition, juxtaposing the tranquility of breakfast with the threatening images of the eye, the gaze, and questions no one wants to answer before coffee. Egg 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. The Book of Things is available for purchase here.
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