AN IMMORTAL POEM--3

AN IMMORTAL POEM-- III

If you hear: I died

here’s what it will really mean:

Thousands of colorful fish

will be fluttering through my eye.

And the ground will hide me.

And the weed will hide me.

And, in the meanwhile,

I’ll be flying high… High

Remember: there are no limits,

but only temporary limits.

I’ll be sailing above you at downs.

Downwind, slippery like silk.

I’ll be showing you horizons,

outlines of rising era

and future sights

with beauty of invisible wings.

…

I’ll be resting from unimportant,

like galactic flocks,

that have grown together by pulsation

ongoing in their souls.

I’ll be resting from unimportant,

like deep forests,

that have grown together by branches

into dense embraces.

I’ll be resting from unimportant

like big birds,

that have grown together by wings

and weaved a net in the entire sky.

I’ll be resting from unimportant

like great loves,

that had grown together by lips,

even before they met.

Do you really think that my hand,

knee,

or head,

could, tomorrow, turn into clay,

willow’s root

and grass?

Do you really think that a small secret,

or a silly fear,

could, tomorrow, turn into

silence,

darkness,

and dust?

You know I come from somewhere from the stars.

I’m all made out of light.

Nothing in me will

extinguish or shorten.

I will only,

as simple as that,

at one random dawn,

return to my distant Sun,

with gold in my eyes.

Because, I was meant for theatres

with plenty of heart and zeal,

theatres of laughter and tears,

where there is no order,

where there is quarreling,

and singing, and screaming, and applauses.

And the end is not known in advance.

Being punished for my every thought,

let alone my every deed,

I’m suspected of tenderness

And found guilty

for not extinguishing love with hatred

but with new, bigger love

and I don’t extinguish life with death,

but with something differently alive.

The last borders of infinity

are just the beginning of more endless.

He who lasts longer than more lasting

knows not for short term knowledge.

Never torture yourself

with the question: how to survive,

But: how not to die

after the final death.

Miroslav Antuć