The Balkans

The Balkans

The Balkans
Reading
Plot
Between Two Worlds
The Dunghill of Beaux Arts
Pax mecum
Survival
Poem de morte for 3 mixed voices
… Ante portas

After a long and toilsome war
there’s always some fair goddess who turns up
to offer you a following wind
to sail back to known shores,
to sail back home
(without your knowing your arrival there
has been well-heralded)
to kneel with a kiss at the ready on the shore
the way it’s always been since time began,
to set out in triumph, though in weariness,
towards your vaulted palaces,
the sights that are unchanged
(for you are he who changes them)
to cross the threshold weightlessly
ready to plunge into the tub
full of sweet-smelling balsam, scented herbs;
and then, however weary, you lie down
with the wife you love
(and you know nothing of her faithlessness
nor of the plot)
never to wake again,
to be found at dawn, a headless corpse
with mouth agape, eyes glazed,
purged of all war’s fires,
of all the sights you knew so well,
of life.

What an end for weary heroes—
but let this too be known:
they hold an endless purpose—the revenge
that springs up from their blood.

AuthorZoran Ančevski
2018-08-21T17:23:58+00:00 April 1st, 1999|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 08|0 Comments