Call
Saw him as willow
Was leaning against wall
Wore galosh
To his knees
A farmer?
Labourer?
All of his belonging?
Folded and on right arm
Held somehow horizontal
Was jacket; inside out
A pay phone in front
Tightened was against wall
Focused eyes on the man
Felt soaring to heaven
Had no wing except thoughts
Diluted with magic, tales, Koran,
In a cave from dead, rose people
After years, many years
Went for walk…
Nothing was in their way
Clothes and money and
Traders…
Everything strange, different…
Now here
One of those from cave
Among us, the people
Each of us holding cell,
His payphone on the wall
Watching him was movie
Amusing, comical…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem