Blesok no. 83, March-April, 2012
Poetry


The Prayer

Svetlana Hristova-Jocić



The Temptation


"Why is it that noone ever loathes his body?"
Says the Apostle.
I do, I say.
I!
I neither feed my body
nor keep it warm.
I, I tell him.

My sweet Apostle,
I defend it from the unsettling movements,
when it hits me with bodily temptations.
There, it started to paint my lips
to lure me into thoughts of love.
I reluctantly tell you, my sweet Apostle
to thoughts of love!

(Which is the garden not frequented by the snake?)




The Prayer


I only came for the grains…
Only before the scythe.
Only before the scythe and grinding stones
after the yield.

My God, help S., your child, for she has sinned.

I only came for the dew…
Only with the wasps.
Only with the wasps and burning stings
above the flint stones.

My God, help S., your child, for she has sinned.

And I only came for the rennet…
And there I am aside.
Only with the frost and shoots to bend
above the curves.

Help me, God!

Vagrants wanderers drifters
searching my eyes
with their elbows their feet.
They want a tax in grains
the pupils of my eyes.

Help me!




I Leave the Church with the Candle Lit


Extinguish it, oh, God!
Where can my foot sink but in the Darkness?
May I stay in the earth – a candle lit for the living.
May I never see where I extinguish.
Here is the big candle, God, bless it!
Let it shine where it belongs, though extinguished!
I leave the church with my fingers burning…
God, don't let them burn out!

Lines with candles from me, as from a big candle
lit at the altar. They take the fire.
Wax drops drip from the burning fingers…
God, don't let them burn out!
They should take the candle home with the fingers.




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