No Name Poem by Andrej Grampovcan

She is wanton, confident, shuddering
present caught in restless horizons
without memory slaughtered to the trunk of a land,
without trace of shadows on roads of evil.
And you aren't buying lie any more
on tears of false passions,
that are putting out candles on cakes of old days.
Truth is a painter,
a daddy has per thousand,
but this world,
to absolute truth get caught
and these don't find common words.
This world trapped to absolute truth,
, if they are looking at your eyesThey are told
and only mountains are drawing with words,
peace within mountains, freshness of forests,
without everyday cries
and of counterfeit contacts,
without fears with large eyes,
that lie in graves
and them for you any more be gone.