Victory of many tears
it’s a holiday – on blood.
many fates have disappered,
and did not live up to love.
Epaulets at cemetery –
tombs in silence stare at us.
‘we are dead, and you are living’ –
they tell us by their glance.
We are – quiet, like all the prophets,
you are – noisy, like school class.
We have graduated from life
but we see you from above.
we are in the light, feel easy.
like a brink lies between us
but you, too, will soon come here,
probably in paradise!
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