From the Pocket of a Dream
Last night, when the Invisible Someone from a bright celestial pitcher
poured the blue moonlight onto the starry fabric,
at the cemetery
I sang about Happiness.
And crosses in despair stretched out their arms.
Dark, mute marble crosses
streching out the arms to Happiness…
It was solemnly quiet.
Long rows of trees and sphinxes of bronze,
all was quiet, dead.
Only my words
like big women in white
sang at the cemetery.
Down in the valley they had turned off the lights
while the blue moonlight flowed across the starry fabric..
by Miroslav Krleza (1893-1981)
To read the poem in the original language please click on the link below: