Poems

Quarrels

Don`t ask me
why I wander mounted and alone
among the rocks
every day I forget a world
and every night I lose a star
and every morn through another door
do I flee from my home, flee from the roots.

Could the dark have crossed each other,
In the rock-pools do I seek for shelter
Close by dragons and griffins,
The snow catches me, up to my throat,
And my horse in the sinking river sinks,
I`m a wick under the armor
I burn in the frost between two duels,
And I want to hear a praise to the gentle mother.

But no one sang on the road,
Churches spend the winter on the bottom of the lake,
And at night I see the enraged fires
On the top of the Velebit Mountain
And two tormentors blow to warm their fingers,
They want to burn my whole body down,
Down the semen.

Look how fires are burning
on the top of the windy hill
and don`t ask me
why I ride my horse alone
far away from the village
trying to find medicinal herbs
for many a wounded brother and for myself

I too will get down from the stirrup
When I hear the horns from the castle,
When fires get milder, when vipers repent
In the heart of the stone.