FROM A JOURNEY

(translated by Karin Pečnikar)

I’m drawing an Arc de Triomphe.

Victorious are the survivors.

The defeated are dead.

There are windmills along the road,

and Don Quihotes’ footprints.

A wild and mournful song

floats through the air.

Love is our only shelter.

The most we can achieve

is a tremor of longing

or happiness.

I’m walking by the road,

looking at Don Quihotes’

footprints…

Then I rest on hard, bitter grass

and draw an Arc de Triomphe.

For the survivors.