The footsteps lying weary
at the treacherous threshold,
shall they choose death as their darling –
or the raging storm?
A sting loves the milky soul:
a gentle hand
twists a silver dagger,
like a medal for earthly rituals
at the red spring
Let a dark shriek rise
(Translated into English by Zoran Anč evski)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.