It spins me, and spins me, and spins me
The eternal waltz of death
It is a dancer of good manners
Silently
Choosing a trained step
In the rhythm of the beats
Of the old universe.
The body is trembling
From the disquietude
Music is dictated
By a conductor
Who is never sleeping
I'm dancing by the tact
The dance is a bloody one
To that dance I'd all my time give
The life is just pretending to live.
Translated by Ivan Boskovic and Aleksandra Dragosavljevic
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem