One day the lion will walk through the door and grab my tired and old arm
One day the lion will walk through the door and grab my tired and old arm,
My wrinkled arm, the one with which I threw the dice in the game of my life,
And I will scream in the bedroom, understanding nothing of the force with which it presses me,
It will be far too strong, and people will come to watch the spectacle.
A wife, a lover, an illegitimate son, a stranger from the street, and a doctor,
Will watch as the lion shows no interest in them, only in the arm it has taken,
When the arm is gone, the doctor will place his stethoscope on my chest,
He will say it might be shock and blood loss, but I already know that.
Now the lion takes my other arm, I try to hit it with my knee,
Its tail knocks a painting off the wall, a Dutch mill in the sun,
The day is beautiful, the world seems good, the dream of swimming envelops me,
But the lion does not relent, and the other arm disappears under its merciless force.
People kneel to pray, all except a silent doctor,
The lion tears at my chest, trying to reach my trembling heart,
I ask the doctor to light a cigarette for me, and he does so with mute sadness,
Then the priest enters, but the lion is not yet disturbed, it only devours me.
I've heard of the lion, how sometimes it is quick, other times slow and cunning,
I knew it prefers the old, but sometimes it catches even children or the young,
God, save me, I shout, but the people do not move from their places,
Let the lion devour me, the priest murmurs incantations incomprehensible to me.
The doctor turns his gaze to the window, it is July outside,
The air tastes like butter, and I become a memory fading quickly,
Before my eyes, I see moths, birds of prey, and angels burning in light,
The lion eats my heart, and the doctor silently places the sheet over my head.
It's early morning, very early, when decent people are still asleep,
Most with heavy breathing, a few making love in the dark,
And most are not like me, not yet, but time will change their fate,
Under the same morning light, they will find their way to their own truth.
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
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