Venice masks

Wednesday, 4 November 2020

Your voice - Stevan Tontic

Always after three, the most seven days
Your voice for a minute
On Belgrade’s nightly telephone.
How my window in Berlin radiates!
The air appears to create waves,
The morning bells I hear already.

Even the iron attempts to tell me,
That it is prepared, to iron my shirt.

Always after three, the most seven days
Your laughter, your weeping, a fragment only –
Like a tear clear is life,
Shining through the fate of the persecuted.

For S.

Stevan Tontic (20th century) Bosnia
Translated by Hatto Fischer

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