A. Geleskool

Endless is the night around
And a way is black:
He, who dies, is going out – 
And can’t be turned back.

He’s gone further from all hopes
In his somber stroll;
But a thought to die the both
Is the wrong at all.

It’s not easier if you mount
The same cross’s bar – 
All the same one’s going out
For his own star.


Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, December, 2002