Gladiator Poem by Zaklina FilipovaSvekjarovska Macedonian

Arena is full..
All the ugly face of your betrayal,
distorted from thirst, are in the stands,
but the knife is in my hands.
- Kill, kill, kill! -you howls from the crowd:
You've always been a coward,
this was supposed to be a fight one on one...
Sunrise is still just a point of light
in the sand under my feet.
Knife is grotesquely large and cold,
but even at its edge
shines the gleam that fills the view with light.
- Kill, kill, kill! - crowd is into ecstasy.
I raise my hand, the blade tends in it,
and sticking a knife in your belly!
Then, I bleeds long among ruins
of soap bubbles.
There is nothing, nothing
except the Sun which rises above my head.
I greeting it with a smile:
- Ave vitae, morituri te salutant!