Whenever because of you
I sit down to write
It always a kind of sucks.
Even though it was only your eyes
That gave birth to me
And I actually breathe you
My words shine stubbornly
Only when turn their back to you.
And here I am - living, so divided,
With every breath
Overfilled with you,
And only by exhale,
A bit with myself.
Translated by Ivan Bošković and Aleksandra Dragosavljević
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem