www.netschoolbook.gr
It happened in a land of farmers on hilly Balkan
far, far away;
a troop of
students
died
martyred
on one
single day.
And only fifty-five minutes
prior the death moment,
a small
troop of fidgets
sat beside
their school desks
solving the
same hard math quest:
“If a traveler goes by
foot,
how much time he needs to
rest...”
and so on.
Their thoughts were filled
with same figures and
tags
and there was a countless
amount
of
senseless As and Fs
in their
notebooks and in their bags.
They were squeezing
a whole
bunch of secrets that mattered--
either
patriotic or a love letter--
on the
bottom of their pockets.
And everyone
of them supposed
that he
would for a long time,
for a very,
very long time
run under
the blue sky--
until all
math quests on the world
were done
and gone by.
Whole rows of boys
took each
other’s hands
and leaving
the last school class
went to the
execution quietly,
as the death
was nothing but a smile.
All friends
in rows were,
at the same
moment,
lifted up to
the eternal domicile.
Desanka Maksimovic