Andrej Grampovcan

It is night, everything already sleeps.
And you go on the mountain towards stars,
that you catch the fantasy in your fist.
He is thinking of paper in voices with inspiration,
...

words already were written down with the right hand,
will Muse maybe fall asleep of sweetness in a head?
But one crazy is from slaughterhouse returned,
...

You turn on the radio button of my heart,
Love music still plays
and you Bujas with my thoughts,
at night you dream of braided hair and do not let
...

they breathe more slowly, rarer, autumn is here
and birds flew already long ago on south.
Sound of a day is rare and when he falls on other,
he slips just alone among fingers.
...

You believe in temple of time maybe still easily
and to agglutinated broken potsherds of a jug,
that they breathe one love,
right that love, that were taking her from her hands once
...

By night, when sleep is out of a room,
thoughts of restless soul are becoming ways
words in song, as he follows redly
they are howling with closed fists in snow.
...

Solitude maybe is only necessary fire,
that you final catch sight of your soul within true mirror,
that corner becomes stair,
that you show their youthful face on her,
...

She is wanton, confident, shuddering
present caught in restless horizons
without memory slaughtered to the trunk of a land,
without trace of shadows on roads of evil.
...