1.
We went to the graveyard
with drums and timbrels
and invited the dead
to attend our weddings
and not to forget.
And all of them are now here,
sitting in the snow-white room,
we can’t see them,
but, alas, they can us.
They cross themselves and break the bread
clink the glasses and spoons,
perhaps they cry and dance,
and we follow only them,
repeat their steps.
2.
They sit beside us, before us,
and perhaps honour the table
by sitting at its front.
They sit and watch
whether it’s again the same
as it was in their time:
whether the bride betrothes herself
to the threshold and the fire
with what leg she steps in first.
They listen if we mention them
and if we show enough joy
for their being with us,
for not letting them disappear.
Translated by: Zoran Ančevski