Far from our countries

Far from our countries, like two Tantaluses
We drank coffee: I and a publisher
                        from Belgrade,
We spoke about Kosova in a third language.
It used to be the cradle of Serbia, he said, so we have rights,
But it is full of Albanians, so you have rights.
So, you mean, we should have had more cradles,
                        I said. He fell silent.
But let us not turn the cradles into graves, I added sighing,
One’s country is an accident, said the publisher from Belgrade.
So let us not lose it accidentally, I added.
We can enrich one another. No one is
                        superfluous.

Shall we turn our cups over to read our fate,
My good Serb? Behind yonder mountains in the Balkans
Our future lies waiting. Like the nymphs it rises from the waters
Which flow through the forests and, naked, timidly
Approach the cities...

(Bucharest, s.d.)