Vojislav Karanović

1961 / Subotica

Son of the Earth

We are a burden to the Earth. Since long ago
I've been disrupted by such feeling. It used to drill
through me, uprooting
This frail peace
And safety. Through voice,
Through breath, through roaring of
Wild beasts - the Earth
Is getting rid of us.
Twittering of birds, opening
Of buds, odours of
Wild flowers - thus
The Earth gives us away,
back to the sky. As if
In a great hurry.

The Earth does not know, that without us
It does not exist. That without us
It would be barren
And futile
Like a pool ball
Fallen down forever
From the soft baize
Of the pool table.

The Soul: it is the only space
Where the Earth exists. There it
Rolls and rotates,
Around itself and around other planets.

The last feeling, the one that
Leads a dying one from this world
Into another - it is the edge
Of an abyss deeper
Than the deepest canyon.

The Earth knows that, that's why
It hesitates, unwilling to give us all away
At once.

I am here. A flower
With bloody petals
Has opened within me.

Translated by Zoran Paunović
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