AFTERWARDS

(translated by Brigitte Orešnik)

Afterwards I hang up your image

in front of the memory of you.

It was a warm day.

Dry twigs opened their bills

and began to chirp.

Green shutters lay on the earth

and turned into grass.

Without a course, without obligations,

with the sun of remembrance above us,

wrapped up in eternal birdsong,

we walk across an endless, verdant field.

At our feet stars are shining.