Šimon Leitgeb

Concrete Beach

2020 | JT's nakladatelství


for Dad


once a year

we drive to where

          we sleep under a pipe


in                   an enchanting                       howls

          which                                   wind


there’s a hole in this pipe


uncle whittled a plug

that fits in it perfectly


we inflate balloons with that wind

and fire burning

arrows at them


we hit the balloons

and they flare up

night becomes day

and the moon


among golden clouds





uncle says we were left alone

so we should act like

unsupervised people


uncle is my best mate

I nod my head

and say that it’s just us two




people call us vagabonds


uncle says

that a vagabond is a person

who’s alone


I like it so much

that I get the word

vagabond tattooed

in marker on my arm




people slept by our caravan in the evening

and called one another vagabonds


I showed them my tattoo

and told them

about the day moon

they started to laugh


so I went to my uncle

and he added a small moon in front of

the word vagabond


he drew one on himself

and said that from now on

we’re completely alone




it feels right when we’re alone

we’re lunar vagabonds


we drive across the country

and know how to set the sky alight




For Alechandr


look beyond the hills


under us the meadows ripple

like the sea



I don’t know where we are


like packaged chickens we wander the streets below

and chirp at each other by the gates of heaven


each of us is a child below


we look beyond the hills

we imagine

that we’re standing on them

we look down


our roads are maps


two drunk nomads

sit on the road

they talk about

something bigger than us


ask them

how far the sea is



Translated by Ryan Scott