The door slid, unveiling delicate eyes.
You inquired about my Austrian hat.
We talked about our ancestors.
We moved at the rhythm of the overnight train,
Sunrise, and in Vilnius I forfeited my memories.

You entered my life without ceremony.
Abandoned feelings sprouted uninvited.
I felt a secret in you, but ignored it.
In the ocean of life you washed me ashore.
Is it sand or stars in my eyes?

Nevertheless, time forced me into Minsk,
Dzherzhinsky's bust scrutinises my walk.
Here the lust of absence involves my steps.
An unhealthy self-immersion is soon broken.
Today turmoil is on the city’s agenda.

Riots on Nezaleznasci square are curbed.
A stranger leads me to a safe location.
Rubber bullets hiss a sinister tune.
Police dogs bark at carbonised cars.
Tear-gas grenades acquit me from composure.

I became unable to read the azimuth in my horizon.
Lost, I lose myself in soviet bookstores.
But here the sense of duplicity endures.
Helpless, I feel ever more haunted by your smile.
For the anarchist, inner chaos has just begun…
 

M. Daedalus