All the time the sky was falling down
There was no noise
Another heart unaware did not beat faster
Whilst just one pair of feet slipped on the cobbles
I did not have a privately paid Atlas
Tenacity, cannot hold mercury in hand
There are no prayers, be it Friday, Saturday or Sunday
They don’t know
And so the sky fell
Heavy as a wet, woollen blanket, sewn with lead
Suffocation was the cause of death.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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