Chrysanthemums

Mute.

White.

Asleep beauteous ones!

Queens of peace.

You never weep for life

yet you live in darkness.

Peaceful like death.

Neat like the garden
in which,

all find rest.

Chrysathemums!
I would die

to rest

in your white arms.
There's silence everywhere

when you reign.
There is no life that could
conquer your

magical quietness!

Peaceful like death.

Neat like the garden
in which,

all find rest.

In feathers of your little pillows

the excited child

or an old man

drained of strength

could rest their heads.

You are like white clouds
in love with the sky,

forever!

Peaceful like death.

Neat like the garden
in which,

all find rest.

Chrysathemums!
Rinsed with the first morning rain,

Encouraged with the last summer breeze.
Empresses of eternity!

Emblems of death.

You triumph over mortality.

Peaceful like death.

Neat like the garden
in which,

all find rest.

Please, tell me why

you cut out white dresses

for yourselves,

whilst all mourners wear black?

Everyone has the right to choose

life or death

in his alloted span;

to live

in turbulence or peace.

Peaceful like death.

Neat like the garden
in which,

all will find rest.

2006. Dubrovnik