Dejan Aleksić - CANDLE

Virgin made of wax
Sent to a monastery
To learn virtue

Thus speaks little
Exchanges her tongue for a flame

So you’d think only about ashes
Eyeing your own shadow

It’s dark in there
As in a horn of a beast
You went hunting
Across the old forest of your tongue
For the feast
Whose day never came

It’s dark under the hood
Of the executioner
With which his daughter
Plays in the evening

Although the bed
Has already been made
And the wind has blown out the candle
On its way to make music
In wet reeds at the end of the earth

Translated by Charles Simic