Boris Kvaternik is a Croatian author living in Zagreb. He was born in 1987. He earned a master’s degree in the fields of Indology and Croatian studies.
He is mostly writing poetry, short stories and art reviews, while also translating poetry from Sanskrit and Pāli into Croatian language.
Midnight engulfs a sweet puppy. And it whimpers: „I forgive you.“ Windstorm tears out a tough root. And it whispers: „Doesn't matter.“ Cashbox swallows a petty penny. It approves: „What else was there to do?“ Poison strangles a deaf kitten. It simply sighs: „It's natural.“ Mother drowns her only son In a sea of deadly apathy. And he screams: We are the damned, And this whole world's a living hell!
For all of this, there is no excuse, Except if we suppose that God is a flickering angel of death, Flittering over cribs of the world Like a moth in the night. For all of this, there is no explanation, Except if we soon start growing Our own pair of bear claws, Along with lion's teeth and seven heads, And if we accept The Revelation As the autobiography of ourselves, While the Earth cracks in two With blood dripping from the sky. All of this, it makes no sense at all, Unless our fate is just a mere Maggot infested rolling dice Tumbling across the night skies, As we are rending our dreams with teeth While weeping in our slumber. For all of this, there is no excuse.