E poemul d-lui Alasdair Sclater, prietenul nostru din Facebook.

Ballad of the exile

Rajko was an exile
In the times of fifteen years ago
So much to rebel against
So much that spoke
Of Serbia now sitting in the dust

Milosevic to be blamed
And so in it must he flee
To London’s fair city
The city of freedom and rights
Where he could see a new future
Away from the country of wrong

A new place to await the new dawn
That would surely appear
In the ending of the days of sanctions
That his world had bound

So he set himself in London
In the new land so far
Foundation a new place to be

In the European home
A new life to live
In the beauty and the pleasure
In the sorrow and the measure
Of another land and another life

But in the time and in the knowing
Stood a difference of the world
Gone were the familiar faces
The familiar places
The joys of family and home
The joys of friendship and belonging

Now was all but a strange land
To live with passion among the passionless
To seek what was not there
to live life as an anonymity
In the city of so many souls

So much did brood
These stresses and strains upon his mind
The loneliness of exile
That spoke of nothing kind
No kindness of the stranger
No solidarity of the society

Only the relentless anonymity
Of a life that was now hell.

So much to prey upon his mind

And in the end
The train was there he jumped
The driver could not stop

Gone was he forever
In the gloom

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