I don’t think I can ever again return to that town,
My appearance causes the citizens to frown,
Going back would bring about unnecessary pain,
I’ve made many attempts to return, all in vain.
The sheriff has unpleasant memories of me and our difficult times,
I remain forever guilty of the most detestable crimes,
For going too far and crossing the lines,
I have spent months in one of his dark, cold shrines.
But he holds no grudge against me and knows it’s not my fault,
He knows I can’t help it, or so I’ve been told,
Yet, should I have stayed, it would have hurt his foot,
For I would be a pebble hindering in his boot.
The path to that town has been lost among the crooked ridges,
Along the way from there I have destroyed far too many bridges,
With the heavy steps of my legs, which I now can barely lift,
I have been leaving deep tracks which have grown into a rift.
What shaded my eyes and caused that I sold,
The town I loved to live in, for a lump of gold?
Now I am lost, fated to wander,
In pursuit of a mirage, an echo of splendor.
by Martin Krč
Year 2, Issue 2