Where it dwells and multiplies
and where it creates a peace
where it foretells with the strength of its lips
an eternal change of everything
a surreal call where it enfolds
the hell paved in time
it’s the nest to the hands and the migration of the heart
and the edge of memory
©Miroslava Odalovic
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem