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Miroslav Holub
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INTENSIVE CARE UNIT
God's insects stuck on pins,
betrayed heroes of the abdominal cavity.
Cracked faience of whining puppets,
human soul dripping from plastic tubes.
Behind white curtains a scene
from the war of the salamanders
is endlessly getting ready.
And liturgies change
and souls change
and blushings and palenesses change
and winged prophets change and
writers of chronicles change and
gods change.
But amikacin,
the antibiotic,
is the only one.
translated by Dana Hábová and David Young
THE HAND
We extended a hand to the grass-
it was wheat.
We extended a hand to the fire-
it was a missile.
Slowly, cautiously
we extended
a hand to men,
to a handful of men.
Miroslav Holub
Translated from German by Germain Droogenbroodt
