Michaël Vandebril
STARI BEOGRAD
one-stringed city that perpetually
severs my wrists
nothing to grieve about
I gorge on gluey blood
an army of young gents marches to a dogged beat
dancing across the water--fresh water dreams
like pigs drawn from the river
I look at your young breasts
while you give your mouth to another man
--like a drunken bird
its wings slithering along the bars--
you sing an ancient anthem of the city
and beograd sings softly with you
o white thighs of the balkans
on which I lay my greedy hands
Translated by Brian Doyle
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