to my son Aleksandar and my daughter-in-law Mirjana
He is not here,
he left.
A reflection of Phrygian vowels
on his linen shirt.
Day and night, the villagers
still collect
the remnants of his words.
He yearned that his dreams
are cleansed by a devastating fire,
he was allowed everything,
but he never allowed
anything to conquer him.
He chose a poignant chamber
and he went to bed with his word
now nobody knows
if he is silent or dreaming.
He is not here,
he left.