The gladiator

the fighters are entering the arena
cheers
I’m whetting the swords
the thirst for blood
pumped from the crowds
with a gigantic heart
the fighter takes his pick from the mirror
hides something under his armour
death five steps away
four

three
two
the room
in which I slept
was visited by shadows
each of them wrote
something in charcoal
it looked like a morgue
in which they drew blood
as payment they left
a medal
nailed
frozen paintings
came in through the door
left through the window
like in a railway station

I read
“I couldn’t find you
but left
the order of battle.”

Translated by Petru Iamandi