All of your runs made no sense,
you finished your well-being,
no cure could’ve been found,
prepare to die is a greeting.
Do not cry over such a turn,
we have to go through this,
everyone of us will reach
what you are about to.
Stephen Stills shows up somehow,
you have no clue about the cause,
even he appears to be puzzled,
so he turns around to me.
‘This is a poem about an impending death,
do I have any sort of reason for being here?’
Mitja Lovše is a writer, a performer and a director from Slovenia. He works within the fields of theatre, film, television and literature. He’s still alive.