For the Burners of Fires
In memory of Oskar Davičo
I
Set aside your guns and knives
They never served us by saving lives
Put away your armaments
Beside the blown up monuments
Fold away your uniforms
Pray instead for lightning-storms
To wash away the marks of war
You strutted in so proud before
Blood-red rider upon a green horse
How far to where the three roads cross
II
Build a fire at the edge of the field
Pile it sky-high till the darkness yield
Build it in the cusp of twilight
Between day’s end and first starlight
Build it on the brink of spring
When you are wild with imagining
Build it so dusky webs of fear
And war in your soul get swept out clear
Blood-red rider upon a green horse
How far to where the three roads cross
III
On bracken juniper and broom
Between the firelight and the gloom
Pile on more dried and rotten wood
To make way for the new and good
Then boys and girls jump over the fire
And when flames lash you leap leap higher
And as for the devil don’t give a damn
The light we light will be under the lamb
Blood-red rider upon a green horse
How far to where the three roads cross
IV
Then stuff and sew a doll upon
A stake and put old leggings on
And call him Lord and Gospodar
And souse him in vinegar
And call him Prince or President
To send him where his cronies went
The favourites he raised and made
And those he tortured or betrayed
Blood-red rider upon a green horse
How far to where the three roads cross
V
Then nail him to an old crossbeam
And bind rope tightly round each arm
And into each sleeve insert a hand
Of twigs and bracken a dry firebrand
And touch to both a blazing torch
And watch him cringe and slowly scorch
And gaze while the spiky villain turns
And twists one last time as he burns
Blood-red rider upon a green horse
How far to where the three roads cross
VI
Then dance to remember leaders are fools
Who twist and cheat by their own rules
And dance to remember leaders are liars
Who trash and trample our real desires
Dance then forget it for leaders like scum
Float to the top till kingdom come
And history lies and lets the dead lie
Who were not in their prophecy
Blood-red rider upon a green horse
How far to where the three roads cross
VII
History lies and leaves us to die
And history leaves and gives leave to lie
And quiet and low our corpses lie
And fade faceless from memory
Till the living awake and those who once claimed
To own Truth itself are rattled and named
And false prophets fall and they in their turn
Crumble like leaves and in bonfires burn
Blood-red rider upon a green horse
How far to where the three roads cross
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