I could have gotten married in Egypt
With one sun ray,
That is masterfully openinig gates of fields
in front of the bus that is frantically rushing
from Cairo to Port Said …
Beside me, the eyes of
Egyptian children are flying by, as fireflies, gentle embers,
while secret papyrus is getting dry
under the foundations of clay houses
overflowed with colors of sun,
a toasted barracks sigh for the waves of the Nile
and seared soldiers are drinking water in the desert as woodpeckers,
helpless but quick.
You can not summon the dead
if they turn away from you. You can not summon the living
if they turn away from you.
And at the Cairo cemetery the living live there.
From tombstone to tombstone the laundry is drying.
And above the cemetery the antennas are shining as lit up chrysanthemum.
And all the flats on the planet earth are cemeteries
from which you should rise as prophets …
Every day, our nothingness, should be a tease.
No army should be taken seriously, with weapons.
All skyscrapers are taken for a haircut by wind.
But I fantasize about what I want.
Lumps of clouds and trees are my treasures.
Clean look and a kiss – gold and silver.
One thinks if he has a castle
that he had escaped from death to gold,
the other is seeking immortality in the bedroom through the castle,
the third is publicly showing magic cloak of truth
below which the body converts into the space bird …
Nobody owns the body, until death.
Now I know,
food products from the time of Ramses III were fresher.
The beer from the first wheat and first date palm was drank,
in which the date was not imprinted.
The laces of garlic were celebrated.
The Prayers were sent to the salad that inflamed amorous ardor.
And with space cosmetics, they were fine –
With turpentine resin and incenses they rubbed the desert
to preserve it’s scattered scent of
So the friendly and clean aliens did,
Who brought the eye of Osiris,
All-seeing eye, much experienced sun,
A Window that is walking through dead people!
Deep holes are dug by esoteric wind,
sinkholes in the sand desert
strive to the Nile source with
the cosmic whirlpools …
All this in an unmarried desert rays
At the sunset brown as date palm
while the wind beats the overdone brick with the sand
and Vesna wants to kiss me. And I
gasped at the yellow sand, at the poor homes,
at the golden donkey towards whom the children are running
to ask him about its health …
I want to kiss the Sphinx!
Vesna is riding a camel, the camel is riding through the desert, desert is in the
universe. And what next?!
And I Set out with gigantic steps across the sky.
But we are here, just here, in the sunset …
As if the ocean winds in front of us, the Nile washes the laundry of space …
And what next?
American from our bus is photographing
A sunset behind a military base …
Vesna loves an American.
True book creates out of nothing.
Treason creates nothing out of all.
Return to Love -boys and girls
whinnie happily, who are running around the desert.
But I swim in the flooded catacomb,
The authentic worlds have sunk into the ground, everyone except me,
and I swim in circles before drowning and I wait to get in,
through the winding Nile, in the sand sinkhole, the vortex of the source, but
I do not have a girl, who si coming out of the hot water of the Nile
into the night for me,
pharaoh of tenderness, Admiral of infinity waves,
coming from the center of the earth …
I only have a ray of the setting sun …
I really could have gotten married in Egypt
without anyone or anything
With a ray of the setting sun
But the bus had gone
into the past of