How long will I travel through this body,
how many more white and how many blue destinies will I undergo,
how many bandages, how much gauze,
how much of the sterile God?
How much longer will I go on being wrapped
in shells, in compassion?
My soul yearns to lift like fog,
but corridors have memory,
under glass
they have seen me
and are now transforming me
into the northern lights, into crystal, into health.
No, nothing anatomical, nothing personal
- I do not need a name in heaven -
I wanted something large, something classical,
I wanted plaques, I wanted elephants, I wanted ostriches without limit.

The spirit is leaving the mirror.
At the bottom of my blood sphinxes await me.
The surrounding moisture offers its ego to me.
The mind comes from the sea,
as damp as madness.
At the bottom of the mind eyes await me
and onyx sight.
Beyond the dark madness begins.
Madness? From how many minds,
from how much ice, from how much fire,
from how many seas, from whose skin ?


[translated from serbian to english by herself]