The spirit enters the eyes of some individuals
in the fateful moments and never more:
at birth. Then they cry. And on the very
end when the others do that instead of them.
In all the inter-spaces, the eyes are cracks
in the limestone of unrecognisable faces and
only as time requires does the rain-water fill
the puddles from which little flows out, more of it

is filtered. Between the eyes there is a spot
in which in most cases blindness
is confirmed, so that in the same place hope,
which always leaves its larvae only
skin deep, could open the false door.
Carry me, love, across the porch, and not
into the room, but out. We'll share the joy
and all of our guilt will fit between two eyes.

Translated by Miljenko Kovačićek and the author