“The voice of One crying in the desert speaks:
Marko,1.3:
Isaiah,40: 3;
And here The One is coming…
A child in this winter
or in some other one
in the pound is drawing.
The water accepts everything,
forgets, washes up.
A name and a voice.
The voice leaves hunger.
Feeds up – the name.
The water everything forgets.
Carve me out of fire!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem