Death is so often depicted
like a skeleton with too big hands and grinning
with the hard iron teeth like a rake.

I had to be so old and so surprised
to understand that this is precisely the life
that stripped of temptation,
when one has gone through long and far enough
with every step deeply driven
in the quicksand of a true existence,
dares to stand for me like this.

I smile back, it looks like a woman,
who is so connected with her husband,
that she does not dress for him anymore
and triumphantly trusts,
that he loves her.

Now I also know why I always found something cheerful
in that shape and that shameless bald mouth,
The strumpet of the ribs, where the heart once hung and sang.

Bird of light caught in the warm countries.
Of everything, that has seduced to life,
nothing is spared than that transparency.

No song, no fear, no love, no fire, no light.

Only this anonymous, iron, smiling face
and this cage and these vast tough hands.

Afterthought sotto voce.

Maybe I have loved you to your bones,
inhuman, unabashed and grinning life.
But it did not come from those bones

For a moment I have to catch my breath.
Later I will sing for you,
how often, how softly your fingers caught me.
(© Translation: Aristos)