WHEN DUST RISES Poem by Slavko Jendričko
WHEN DUST RISES
Soon the swallow's nest
will turn to dust
and we will lie down deep
in our beds
and you haven't aired out the death.
And it's not like I didn't ask for it
and planted on your body
the thinnest sound of the most
beautiful bell's touch at dusk.
You've been praying for a long time
because of my tongue
that makes me fall
into deep ignorance
it still can't tell my
destiny
the dust from the belly.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/30/2024 7:32:22 AM # 1.0.0.1119
