The Vigil Lamp
One day,
when my gray hair
will become the ornament on somebody else's face
and my eyes in other eyes will dream,
I wonder-
Will I recall the blink of love,
the vigil lamp of my soul,
that hovers through the shadows of life,
left like a lone lantern at the end of the sky
to shine through the night...
Will I be a finer man
and will I appreciate
when you asked,
not to run from aging,
because I would die so soon,
and the line of life on your palm
will be invisible to the eye
But, to find you,
I have to carry my old age alone
headed by childhood and youth
through the umbilical cord of the white solar wind
until the beautiful day,
where you will not be a filmy silhouette,
long walking
on the longest line on my palm,
but rejoin between us, in a glance,
that I would not die, or disappear,
but, in your name I'll be born...
Borce Panov
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem