Poem By Algimantas Mackus

Soon, I will be no more,
soon, I will go to sleep:
My country is winter,
my country is midnight,

only in the palm of my country
while the moon is shining,
a snowy fruit tree shimmers.


My country is winter,
my country is midnight,
a lonely voice
in the age of lost homelands,

only in my country's unsowed fields,
awaiting sleep,
echo the trailing bells of sleighs...

I will be no more - but not yet
I will turn deaf - but not yet.

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Other poems of MACKUS

Dying Is Strange

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.

In Triumph

And death won't be won over.
Dead men don't turn back
once their elbows prop rubble,
with the north moon's north eye

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.


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

Talk About The Dead Being Born

Here's one place torture broke down.
I frown and am reassured
God is on our side.
Gott mit uns.