Dying Is Strange

Poem By Algimantas Mackus

The one night I got to spend enjoying spring
would have to be the one I hit the dirt,
though the dew had turned green earlier,
much greener than anything that spring.

My legs collapsed and with no one there to raise me
from my knees, not even rain being able to rouse me,
the grass alone dared to come near
dumbstruck to discover anyone human

would die in spring,
with such fragrant rain pouring in

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Other poems of MACKUS

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And death won't be won over.
Dead men don't turn back
once their elbows prop rubble,
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From A Misty Autumn Morning

I never loved the earth.
I meant to leave it
to its loneliness.

In Mourning

Right at seven that morning
right then at seven a.m.
it was that morning at seven
death had to have homage shown.

Jurek

I would lift your body into the crown of a green tree
if I had a tree
greening.

Talk About The Dead Being Born

Here's one place torture broke down.
I frown and am reassured
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Gott mit uns.