Wreath Poem by Nastasimir Franovic

I wove a wreath for you from my verses.
In memory of your tear, as clean as a well.
To you for reading me long verses
and talking about what is hidden behind the poet's sadness.

To you for teaching me how life is a castle.
As the shrine was made and presented by the Creator himself.
To you laughing while reading my first rhymes.
To you for teaching me to hide the name from my love.

To you who extinguished the flame of your life with your own hand.
Tears for unborn children and your unhappy love.
Your heart that endures so many blows is like a tough stone.

Your mortal hour drenched in blood.
Instead of a vigil, I give you a wreath of my verses.
At your grave I will read you a sonnet, my debut.