As soon as he approached the house
The house stepped away:
Or it simply froze as a vampire’s chest.
In his four hands he holds three horseshoes.
For an event like this one needs a lot of water and fire
Serving this reality as if they were its small props.
And truth becomes flexible there like a body of a young woman
Who whispers “Once more” and the world becomes renewed instantly
Like a burning beach swiped by a wave and then the hot wind rises
Toward the disappeared house, it swishes by, hurls and advances
Until it blows the door open. There is no one there,
Just faceless emptiness which warns the body not to
Lie down next to death. He sits down
And recognizes everything that never cannot exist:
Wet curtains made of channels, cliffs stuffed with hot branches,
Milky and mottled mountains, thick hair of a bag.
He hears the pendulum of an apple and feels the weight
Of a camel trembling impassively alone in a hot desert storm:
“Calm down and stay away”- the voice of her eye says
In which gold sparkles innocently like every burnt down saint.
“The sword of the century is approaching”–no one is going to say,
but an echo replies—“We shall all be witnesses”.
He does not know what, but he believes that something has to arrive.
If there is no arrival , how did he ever get back home.
Translated from Serbian by Nina Živančević
