OUTLAWS Poem by Robert Perišić

You have to do
something!
this is a small lion, he is learning to walk
numbers from 1 to 500, all vanished
a combine keeps a part of the harvest for itself
the farmer doubts in everything
affluent birds on fat branches
patients are building the hospital
don't be a bachelor
silence of all doctors
they found bullets in my body, that's me - a German journalist
killed on the road to Glina
a bad route, buddy
someone already works instead of me
do you want to meet your employer?
why does an American repair his fence?
he always, always repairs his fence, and stares at passing women

but the nights
oh, full of bandits
eyes of thieves shining in darkness
the farmer waits in the silo
at his writing desk Marx falls asleep
something is going on outside
lights are on in all offices
Crazies work tonight, models are strolling, a pilot
is flying, the president is speaking, Ana learns languages, the farmer
waits, a train goes by, they are here! outlaws
from 1 to 500
avalanche!