to Mateja Matevski
From this night onwards the day shall grow,
then the spring shall prepare the grass,
thick and green, for someone.
And a white horse shall gallop towards the sunset
waiting for someone
to travel, without return,
to the end of all meanings
and deceits of the holy duty
towards the fatherland and other countless banalities…
Oh, Cavafy,
from this day onwards the day shall grow,
then the spring shall prepare the grass,
thick and green, for someone. Over there,
we shall go to bed alone,
for we only gave the life
something of our own,
while we gave death everything…