The poet fry, by left hand,
the wax of a lighted candle,
lights in the tunnel of feeling.
He holds firmly in right hand
a cresset for the requiem of love
but he knows that Muse is immortal.
As he speaks poetry he waits,
to write her name, the one who
thinks the poem was written for her.
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Kako je nastala pjesma
Pjesnika, po lijevoj ruci,
prži vosak upaljene svijeće,
svjetla u tunelu osjećanja.
U desnoj ruci on čvrsto drži
kandilo za opelo ljubavi
iako zna da su Muze besmrtne.
Dok govori poeziju on čeka,
da napiše svoje ime, ona koja
misli da je pjesma njoj napisana.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem