At The Grave... Poem by Dorota Szumilas

warmth is escaping
the warmth of body
and soul

escaping
evaporating
so fast
that fear strikes

what'll happen
when the warmth
is gone
when it leaves
its body
for good

what'll be there
when your heart
can't feel

when your eyes don't
look alive
can't take in
the landscape

these green meadows
those towering mountains
all that will have
to go....

what'll happen
not long from now
when warmth escapes
together with the soul

I don't think
anybody knows

(transl. by Urszula Sledziewska-Bolinska)