Neva Lukić – Poetry

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Neva Lukić – Poetry

To die in the desert
The Light

To die in the desert

On my back I carry Beauty.
Beauty, heavy, hunchback crone
infinite Matryoshka doll,
the last particle much heavier
than the gaps of the universe.
In your fingers she transforms
into the light grains of chickpeas;
through your fingers she falls
along the wooden bodies
of Matryoshka dolls,
along the circle that whirls
on the thin waists of girls!
The grains of chickpeas so light
fall through the tunnel of the gap
between the walls
where the elevator of stories
once upon a time was,
going from one story to another,
from the second to the third floor…
When the elevator was finally gone
we realized that all was one story
even if very distant and long
leading to the azure ring of an old lady
who had a glass in which goosebumps
had long ago been aroused;
so when I walked with Beauty,
a heavy old woman on my back
I spilled them on your fingers
and the roasted grains
lured you to the film sets
where my body transformed
into a heavy, azure, steady
into all the weight of the world’s
Beauty (!)
forever catching her breath
in heaven,
and then constantly suffocating
in land;
under her womb the surface
of the lake
where the chickpea
grains prostrate
and flowing blood
flows and flows
because it only flows
when the veins join.

AuthorNeva Lukić
Translated byGjoko Zdravеski
2019-01-15T12:21:33+00:00 March 27th, 2018|Categories: Poetry, Literature, Blesok no. 118|0 Comments