Waltz Of Death Poem by Natasa Bajic

It spins me, and spins me, and spins me
The eternal waltz of death
It is a dancer of good manners
Silently
Choosing a trained step
In the rhythm of the beats
Of the old universe.

The body is trembling
From the disquietude
Music is dictated
By a conductor
Who is never sleeping
I'm dancing by the tact
The dance is a bloody one
To that dance I'd all my time give
The life is just pretending to live.

Translated by Ivan Boskovic and Aleksandra Dragosavljevic