Saša Milivojev
A MESSAGE AFTER DEATH
And I have died,
in antiquity,
and noone ached for me.
Some rejoiced,
young as I was, as I bled on the cross,
drenched in blood, in agony.
Not a single tear rolled down for me,
when they nailed my bones to yew,
the dzelats were singing sneeringly.
and I was smiling, forgivingly.
In that life so brief,
in that cauldron of...
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