Pain, Death And Morning After Poem by Aleksandar Sasha Trajkovski

Morning after death,
always a little mystical and unknown...
A light that shone to death,
light eternal after death.
Light soft and good,
weak and dark...
I wake up disoriented,
in space and time,
not sure it's morning or night.
I dream like the birds,
theydo not just die in flight,
but fall under right angle,
some painlessly on the branch dry,
some where the beam of light,
caresses them through the metal bars.
The morning after death,
always a little blurred and uncertain...
A light that shone until death,
light eternal after death.
Usually when I'm silent with a pen in my hand,
or create melancholy,
I leave the word,
to clear the hatchery of sorrow and despair...
When there is someone else's pain greater than mine,
and there is no cure for it,
I always find solace in short.
I dreamed of a captured nightingale in flight,
from a bird armed with claws,
how the pupils of his eyes widen,
hisbitter longing for freedom
slowly fades.
Smoldered in the sea,
he fought eagerly,
day and night,
to die in cage,
and to discover eternity.
Morning after death,
always is a little different and unknown...
A light that shone to death,
light eternal after death.
Begging for a little stronger light,
and I lie on the bed narrow,
with eyes closed,
until the new morning after death.
Full of many lives surviving,
tired of the various lights,
became a figure of darkness.