Dear generation...

The pandemic turned 2020 upside down and postponed a lot of events. One of them is the celebration of the jubilee graduation. We are very angry at Covid19.

Every fifth year, the most numerous generation of the high school meets and happily waits for that moment. We live for that day, a roll call at school and a celebration.

Most of the former high school graduates gladly go to the graduation anniversary celebrations, eagerly and eagerly they want to see old friends from school with whom they used to hang out, make mischief, have their first dates and spend their first summer vacations were born. So, there are many emotional and sentimental reasons for reunion.

There are also jokes and teasing, like in school days. Unequivocally, he always first weighs how someone looks today, whether the years have brought him or ruined something of his former beauty. Has anyone gained weight, felt, whether the most popular girls and boys from school days are still holders of the same title, or whether "some ugly duckling" has taken over their title. Then follows a joke, then a cordial greeting and a collective conclusion that we have not changed at all since our high school days, if nothing else, then at least in a youthful spirit.

After the celebration, we return to reality for a long time. We want time to stop. For all the comrades scattered around the world to return to our city and not to part.

When I think of graduation, I always remember Mike Antić.

Miroslav Antic - Epilogue

A thousand times since this morning as I used to love you.

I've been back to you a thousand times since this morning.

A thousand times I'm scared again

for you lost in a whirlwind of maps,

for you divided as a poster who knows what kind of people.

The waterfall has a beard like Count LN Tolstoy.

That is

in fact

The morning foams by itself and crucifies the rainbow.

I confessed to one woman

That life is something simple in me,

- and it's not that simple.

I thought I was going to go straight

until I turn into a ruler,

and they found me in a circle.

They found me after wandering

depressed from screaming to whispering.

October has passed.

Between the legs of the trees it slowly smells of moisture

and blood.

The street is soaked in the raw sun for the last time.

Sit a little next to me like the end of a grave.

A minute of mail for my late rosy age.

Sit a little next to me

You see: I'm good again.

Behind my ear, a stream of cursed defeat broke out

as a executed military fugitive.

Huge golden carriages flew by

through our numb eyes,

- and we didn't save them.

Something young roared on our lips and introduced us

Bitter from laughter and sweet to crying.

Let me after all

I write a letter to a distant lady,

a little nostalgic anyway

as senile retired admirals write

surviving crew from a sunken destroyer.

Miss,

i will say

miss,

Everything is,

Everything is,

it's all over.

The flowers are dead here

sold bottled in perfume bottles.

And everything is,

Everything is,

everything is calm

as if the wind had never slapped the tree line

and he was weaving in the window.

Miss,

i will say

this fall,

frigid as a tourist with a Scandinavian passport,

Just because I'm suddenly sad doesn't mean I'm white.

You are the only one who fed all my hunger

with that little bit of meat and sleep.

You were the only one full of my little nails

and palms.

I would like your future sons to inherit the color of my voice

and daughters wear my grief in silk vests.

I would like you to preserve my most beautiful peaks

on the horizontals of your bottom

and you pass my eyes through the silence of other people's eyes

and apartments,

and my October through all other people's April.

I HOPE TO MEET NEXT YEAR!