The Bible

Furrowed by a heavenly plough

under a net of stars

In the silence of the desert dunes

In the breeze above the steppe and rock massives

the form of Your word

goes through the inside of the prophet

We thought of the house

there are wisps of smoke above the ruins

We thought of food

a stone is still in our palms

We thought of delicious drink

a castic taste of viniger is in our mouths

We thought of heights

the foundations crumble

We thought of infinite width

we can hear the clinking shackles

The light on the mountain’s face

swallows up all the phantoms

The invisible cloud of your love

fills us up

                             unlocks the path                                          

                                                                                                                                                     translation 2004  P. Bejčková