Poetry – Vladislav Hristov

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Poetry – Vladislav Hristov

the reaper is just getting up
but the shadow of the peartree
follows him all afternoon
when the sun starts burning
on his neck, the old reaper
lies down for a sweet nap
while the field is still glowing
the night is still afar
and all death
seems impossible.

AuthorVladislav Hristov
Translated byVangel Imreorov
Translated byGjoko Zdravеski
2018-11-30T13:20:49+00:00 November 29th, 2018|Categories: Literature, Poetry, Blesok no. 122|Comments Off on Poetry – Vladislav Hristov