All bridges are made to connect us all
                                and you did your job beautifully—the best.
                                You lived in our land, nice and warm and small,
                                and took care of us with such flame and zest.

                                I was so much proud of your structured curves
                                and I loved each stone, their gleam and their shine,
                                while they carried over carefully, with nerves,
                                people to connect them with the other side.

                                The river beneath you helped you count the time
                                and shared with you every dark or sunny day.
                                I remember long walks, sunsets so sublime,
                                and me touching your hands—fences made of grey.

                                And while growing up, I gathered so much
                                from you and the river that beneath you flew;
                                Finally, I imbibed every thought and touch
                                in order to save all I’d gotten from you.

                                Suddenly, the river brought malice and hate
                                collected who knows where from old, heavy rains.
                                It became much stronger than your tender state
                                and you broke in half—couldn’t stand the strains.

                                I felt tears inside me and my scared white dove
                                ‘cause it killed your youth, strength and all your sense,
                                ‘cause hatred became much stronger than love
                                and made you a victim of malevolence.

                                One day, a new bridge will bring a new stride
                                by coming to light right beside your parts,
                                and it will continue to connect this side
                                with the other one, bringing fresh new starts.

                                And I guess that this is the only right way.
                                It is good to have bridges all around.
                                Bridges connect people wherever they stay
                                and help them see their and the other ground.

                                Yet, I’m sad I have to watch your remains,
                                your body destroyed, scattered part by part;
                                but, I’ve learned your lesson and will not let rains
                                kill the bridge that still lives deep in my heart.

                                Dragana Konstantinovic
                                Translated by the author
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