Godo is not coming

Godo is not coming

Ndue Ukaj

Is raining, the road from Irland is unpassable

The sea cannot be passed with small steps, on rainy nights

When solitude engulfs you like the Earth’s earthquake cracks

When pain has no time even for scientific explanation.

Godo is not coming, it is late, infected by the welcoming

Sleeping comfortably, amongst mine and your dreams.

He is not coming, neither under the tree of life nor in the theater of wonders

Doing the sleep of expectation which your time does’nt understand...our time.

You are waiting, like the bride on the abandoned bed,

Dream of his with open arms as he brings a sack full of dreams

extending your hands with softness, as in the beloved hair...relaxes there

And prays to your dreams, intertwined through your tall fingers.

Suddenly a bite freezes your body, your hand flies from the sack.

Wiping your forehead you understand that Godo did’nt come, neither his enigmatic look.

nontheless you are not convinced that your dream entered in a sack.

 Was tied foreverer just like Godo’s arrival.

Surprisingly passed on the other side of the furious river of words

As you pass amongst the dreams full of wonders towards the guards of time

 that make the noise of life in the dream of expectation.

Nearby the guards of time fosters the hope that Godo nevertheless will come.

Godo is not coming, no...!

You are crying, crying frantically until your tears have made a creek

between your cheeks and your non-stop tears’ flow.

Where the heart beats are felt like the steps of the unknown

In the gloomy night when grief is around the corner

And even Godo would experience it on his hands and be thrown desperately.

 (Translated by Peter Tase)