Sećanje na pokojnika

Pred vratima iza kojih prostor gnjije

On je zbunjeni zlatnik i dvosmisleni rast

Mutne reči sve dublje koja čeka na nas

Da nam srž klijanjem kroz koru probije.

U raspevanom plamenu ko da ga otkrije

Trava raste iz njegovog imena i spas

Jedini je budan a samo je glas

Čuli su ga al ga niko vido nije.

Prostor i vreme između svega što biva

Bezgrešnim govorom prevaziđe u svetlosti

Kad gore gradovi u samoodbrani.

On je zvezda nad prazninom govor koji otkriva

Zdrobljeno sunce podzemlja kao živu u kosti.

Tu izgubljeno sećanje pustinju hrani.

Memory of the Deceased

At the door behind which the space rots

He is confused golden coin and ambiguous growth of

Dim words deeper and deeper that wait for us

to sprout the marrow through this core of ours.

Who could find him in the singing flame

salvation and grass grow from his name,

The only awake though just a voice

Heard but yet unseen.

Between everything that happens, space and time

the sinless speech in light to overcome

When cities burn in self-defense.

He is the star above nothingness, speech that reveals crushed

Sun of the underground like mercury in a bone.

The memory lost feeds the desert there.