Anthology of wounds - Arct

Anthology of WoundsI sign every day your names on the palms of my hands.Then I see them, and it seems to me as if we were speakingtogether.The years went on, but for us they are the same. The daysand nights are the same as summer and winter. The frost isnot melting.Sometimes I envy the birds that sleep during the nightbetween the branches of the trees. I try to sleep but I can’t. Ithink of you my children … good children and with goodqualities.Try to keep your soul pure, because it can have a positiveeffect on your feelings and body through the hardshipyou suffer. When you were younger you were like acranberry branch, and now you look as like the roughbranches of a dry plant. I was in front of you only as apicture as you grew up, but your mother and my wifewho acted like Onfalia and Laudamia of ancient times isa shield for you. Even though I am old, I will try not to beburn away like a cigarette and hope one day to be togetheragain …Zejmen, September 1982My dearestEven though our souls are from each other, they speaktogether. So we will keep our family’s compassion and lovelike the sun that comes up every day. We wish the evening tobe similar to the morning, to Venus, and not to the fog thatdoesn’t leave any tracks.Sometimes I dream with open eyes, as if nature formedrainbows. A leg to put by me and another leg near you so wecan create a bridge.63