A SENTENCE IN THE BOOK

(translated by Ann Čeh)

At the end of this long, passionate life

I shall be a nameless person in a book,

a curve in a picture,

a thought to an appeased old man:

“She was, of all of them,

the woman, who loved me best”.

This will be an affected, artificial sentence.

The wearied heart will no longer sense it

and along the winding paths of memory,

neither the lake

nor the woman’s figure beside it will exist.

All will be erased.

At the end of a long, passionate life.