Translated by Bela Gligorova
From “Erased Spaces”, Blesok, 2011.
Another (one) will write your autobiography.
Someone who will pretend being you.
He will enter your consciousness
He will crawl under your skin
He will permeate the world of your intimacy
So that, one day, he will succeed in
Putting together that which you had put asunder
Rewrite that which you erased
Dig up that which you buried
Deep within, like a mad avalanche
Revealing that which you banned
From public use;
He’ll untangle and then again
Entangle the cord-signs
Of your personal and of
The Macedonian syndrome
He’ll fool around with the transformations
From antiquity to futurity
From the personal to the collective
He’ll transform the sophisticated expressions
And poetic evocations
Into existential imagery
To deliver, fully, the richness
Of your iconic nightmares
Of your childhood fantasies
Of your providential failures;
Perhaps he’ll surpass you
Aided by the innate gift of playing
The part of the other
Of losing his own self in the other
As if consumed by the nothingness.
The border between that and your world is fading away.
The charm of the invisible will prevail
And here he would be most like you;
He’ll rummage the letters, poems, interviews
He’ll interview your contemporaries, those who have survived
He’ll reread their memoirs and journals
He’ll thread the edges
He’ll look, first to the left, then to the right
Maintaining balance
So as to reach the end
With a continuous flow so as not to fall back
Somewhere halfway, just as you had done.