Eastern Europe Poem by Mimoza Ahmeti

Oh, race of the steers of passion
Which gives life to my veins,
Oh, tranquillity of oppression, stoic observation, the pulsing
Steam...
I feel no pity and forgive no one,
Take account of nothing.
Go ahead and explode,
Depart...

Oh, purity of the East, fresh budding fears
Of muscles and the blood of origin.
Brain ringing, temples resounding,
Echoing within the skull, silence outside.
Outside, dust.
Only dust that sings
and rules the world.
Raises and fells the musty forms
Of human effigies:
Some gestures, sounds, impulses -
Extinction once again.

Oh, fresh fears budding like steers
In my veins,
How can I control you, set you free, clash blood-smeared with you?
Or let you freely exit the arena
With my blood which you have inseminated?

Oh, crucified cries in the empty recesses of my mind,
Oh, knives of pain which shatter on my skull,
Oh, pride, strength, attribution of the explosion.
Insanity - clear conscience.