Friends in the Universe
Those I know have all grown old, my scattered friends.
The snow is getting rusty in Sweden, from the other side of the globe
brief electronic messages buzz in: there’s a fire, or else
there isn’t. No news is news anymore, they’ve heard it all –
my tired friends.
Memories are the only news we are still
curious about. We approach them without doubt,
yet carefully. As back on our street, when we taught
a stray cat, black with white paws, to eat from our hands.
Though she was hungry, she’d smell our rings first.
© 2006 by Milorad Pejić
Translation by Wayles Browne and Sasha Skenderija – © 2008 by Wayles Browne and Sasha Skenderija
The preceding text is copyright of the author and/or translator and is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.