Morse, My Deaf Friend [second week of insomnia...] Poem by Miloš Đurđević
Morse, My Deaf Friend [second week of insomnia...]
second week of insomnia, from the fifth toward third hour a rattle in
the walls (plumbing?) follows automobile boxes for a short while (in
waves? does it bounce back, absorb? will it squeak? on which side?)
and then you want to think it drizzles, softly, but there is no echo from
anywhere: daybreak like an inversion of the eye blinking in slow
motion, upper lid opens up, withdraws and can't go down
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/25/2024 11:09:15 AM # 1.0.0.1119
