The morning was late.
I didn’t even have the time to rub my eyes
Already woken by the afternoon wind.
I’m running to you
By the damp edge of the day
Between the dew drops
I spill words from my sleeve
Like magicians pull pigeons
And you sip coffee and don’t even glance
At how the sky above us turns blue.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
beautiful.. what a joy you are, Ivona, Sx