….until finally I realised:
I'd been sitting there for a good half hour
gazing dully into the screen
with its last sentence.
And session over, and you have to move
and shut the computer
and leave.

But what next? And can you ever get used to
those car accidents
that hit the bulls-eye?
To that electronic address
that lets you know the worst?
And how to express protest? And against what?
To howl at the walls, or to close the computer
forever?

Sashko Kryvenko.
Last night.
Left us forever.

Did I understand that right, I didn't twist any of the facts?
‘Cause if this is a novel
these plot twists
are becoming monotonous,
the Author evidently in crisis.

SIE KÖNNEN DEN COMPUTER JETZT AUSSCHALTEN.
DON'T FORGET TO TURN THE TELEVISION OFF.
GOODNIGHT CHILDREN, GOODNIGHT.
THERE ARE NO MORE MESSAGES TODAY.

(Doubtless, all of us
at any moment might have
a car accident, a heart attack,
a white fever.
All of us - we're mainly drinkers,
as our guardians on the Internet well know.
Our country came to terms with that long ago
and each similar piece of bad news
is taken with all due calm.
So why does it turn so dark, in the eyes?)

I go outside, to at least catch
some air and I can't do it.

SIE KÖNNEN DEN COMPUTER JETZT
AUSSCHALTEN.

And only later - along with the air -
it comes to me,
brighter than bright:

There is one such place.
For those like Sashko Kryvenko.
And from there you can see everything.
And the point is not
that he is there, and we are here,
although that can't fail to twist your guts
here in our green world.

The point is
that it's called liberation
and despite everything, it's inevitable
as any old car-accident.