Like ash burned in blood
the hair will break out in nests
the though left ajar by the willows
will lower the boughs to the water
oblivion to drink
the wells will echo the deep silence
the delusions of dawn will step into an abyss
I will be drowned in forebodings
the thought left ajar by the cloud
will be blown away by the winter wind
like living whispers getting restless within
the axes of war will echo in sleep
i will be turned into hands
I will be turned into a touch
and perhaps into an embrace
kao pepeo krvlju sagorena
u gnijezdima osvanuće mi kosa
misao odškrinuta brezama
spustiće granje do ode
zaborav da ispije
ćutanjem dubokim odzvanjaće bunari
prividi sitanja zakoračiće u bezdan
u njima će me utopiti slutnje
misao odškrinutu oblakom
oduvaće sjeverac
kao šapati živi nemirni unutra
sjekire ratne odzvanjaće u snu
pretvoriću se u ruke
pretvoriću se u dodir
i možda u zagrljaj
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem