East
I exist
I stand
Frozen in a cursed temple
A black crow in my hand
Blood is trickling down the frescoes
Grave suffering
Saints are crying
Walls are moaning
Like an echo from the past
The fog
Before the sacred altar
It's all desolate
Like the Sahara
My heart is being torn apart
It's all black
The only thing shining above
Is a half of the innocent Jesus Christ
I exist
I stand
Frozen
I feed on sinful blood
I move to the West
To the cathedral for an attack
Feeding the flock with my poems
And there I find the same
Myself standing
Frozen
Afraid of the hoarse sound of the organ
But since I exist
I will not allow
Oneness to be on two world's sides
Fate is still cursed
I stand
Singing a sad song in the choir
Frozen
Like a chestnut in the wood
Helpless
I stand
Frozen
I
Where the sun rises
And me here
Emptiness
I have nowhere to go
Crucify me too
Without the last sip of wine
Saša Milivojev
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem