Mirrors..
other people's eyes
the union through which we are seen:
the trail of a light we carry with us
the burning ash we leave behind
the eclipses
the sunset and sunrise
the thunders, lightning and rain
two strangers meeting,
sharing the same umbrella
in some distant age...
the wasted words, the cold breath, the
sand castles and sharp shells
against a sky
sprayed in a pale, bluish grey hue
with silvery tints
(THE life before that)
Dark clouds stretching their wings
flashbacks of memory..a war-torn country
the partisans, the tattered black flag
the waltz created by bullets, screams and
hand grenades..fences and barricades
faces and hushed gestures,
frail bones cracking,
clenched fists..the final breath of others-
his lives are mingled in a requiem
forever stoned in this mirror's reflection.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Verily, a true depiction of the destructive instinct of man, the war