The Balkans

The Balkans

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

Lost between two worlds
one dead,
the other incapable of being born
with neither brow
nor nape

So little brain is left
per capita
so little sense
in this domain of ragged crags
and years of drought

but at the head eunuchs and petty minds
Someone said: Acheron’s ahead,
as deep as life
We sleep the night in the camp
of previous wretches
full of sheep-droppings and mercurial waste
We wait for the ferryman
to ferry us across for free
to the misty shore
that end of our hopes
to Salvation
the final fall

To the end
that our Salvation is
or is not

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