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Jana Stroblova
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THE END
Everything got lost;
nothing but burned land,
over which the evil spirit stroke.
May be - a branch...?
But, whereto than;
End. That the wasteland resembled a separation.
Though - does not even
an uprooted savage know
the remembrance of the dream?
That one day...
He clawed with one root,
blindly,
and yet at the ground,
he already raises his crest towards heaven.
Jana Stroblova
Translation: Bohumil Splíchal-Germain Droogenbroodt
(c) Jana Stroblova Poem supplied by the author.
