Poetry

Poetry

Istanbul
Encounter
96
Buenos Aires
The Master of Skopje

to Milorad Popović

Years pass by
and there is less and less hope
that I will see Buenos Aires.
So I too could take
a deep breath of fresh air.
We are Europe
we fight against nylon
packaging, for human rights,
for the rights of aquarium
fish.
We who enjoy among
artificial algae
while they dose us with oxygen
via a tube in our sovereignty
limited behind the glass.
So I could sing and dance the tango
and yell at La Bonboniera
and just like V. Grombovich’s Polish prince
not care what they think of me
back in my fatherland.
That I make false plans
for my fatherland,
which will break apart with the first
touch of the plane wheels to its ground,
I, the former emigrant,
the harbinger of freedom.
They pretended they could hardly wait for my return,
and then they started choking me
with their bare hands.
Years pass by
and there is less and less hope
that I will see Buenos Aires,
my fatherland will be
my fresh air.

AuthorAhmed Burić
2018-08-21T17:22:34+00:00 November 12th, 2015|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 101-102|0 Comments