GŐRING IN THE CARIBBEAN Poem by VLADIMIR KOPICL

It is interesting to be alive
and above all other things it's useful
for mankind.

That is a measure for pain.

The dawn has never invited me
and my skin is dark. The skin
of twilight covers the sun by itself
and wakes up at night by itself.
The pink sky remains afterwards, the redness that creates the
sunshine and white feathers are falling off the angels' wings.

Gőring dreamt of "messerschmidt"
because he loved gold.
I love to see Gőring's gold in my hands
and the airplanes bright with speed, the soundless ones which
carry my sex towards the Caribbean.

Dawn is dark there,
bright shadows are dark there and oil in jugs as well.
Even the coconut is dark there as much as the children
who drink its milk for hours
clenching their dark Gőring between their teeth for days.

Their laughter rings happily then
and it is golden in the dawns of May
as they dream of the holiday of their first Leninist pain.
I will die and the world will become boring again.
A trap for cold days.