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 Slavko Mihalić, an extraordinary Croatian poet, died yesterday. Maestro, Put Out the Candle Maestro, put out the candle, times are grave. Better you count night’s stars, sigh for your youth. Your rebel words might well gnaw through the bonds. Plant onions in your garden, chop wood, clear out your attic. Better no one should see your eyes, filled with amazement. Such is your trade, you cannot hold tongue. So when you can’t hold out and one night seize your pen, maestro, be wise, let prophecies alone. Try to write down the names of stars. For times are grave, no one, nothing’s forgiven. Only the clowns know how to keep from harm: they cry instead of laughing, laugh when tears contort their faces. Slavko Mihalić (1928 - 2007) | |
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Posted by Bojan Archived under: South End |
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