A Belgrader visits Dresden


These are the cities of splendour and ruin
where he got crushed in a moment
by heavy history settled in every cobblestone
of a seemingly unimportant alley
as he was trying under the sun’s hell
to memorize all the fuss of many a battle
listed by the skilled guide
during which all the haughty wilhelms, johans and friedrichs
in the name of faith
aristocratic honour
(and this same star was scorching also then
with the same indifference
this beautiful old den)
mounted their gracious studs
and started conquering about wildly
and building
(while the ring of catacombs was swelling
like a hard riddle around that humble town)
the pearl on the Elbe
with golden angels on the domes’ tops
who stretch their hands in the sunset
and hover above the city as the silent shimmer dwindles
(or is it merely drumming in his eyes
crushed by so much beauty?)
just as if the skies never vomited here
and people and stone were not sizzling
their dust mixing in the same mash
as the Elbe was flowing
as lazy as the Danube
and swelling occasionally with anger
when nobody expected
plainly uncaring for the some city
raped ravingly first and last
in the crater of Europe
in the brave last century
in all different anno dominis…

…but look at a Saxon beauty passing
swaying her hips across the square
(which can be e.g. also the one in Belgrade)
never giving a damn for the gloomy proud horsemen
blind for the glory of the opera
the glamour of the academy
whistling at the saints on the facades
trampling carelessly on the ancient street
and onto this sticky afternoon
giving a toss for a thousand years
of blood and glory
as she goes off to splash around
with her gorgeous legs in the palace fountain
when all the gory epics of universe
is compensated suddenly
by a certain sense.