A Poem Of Ohrid

He who makes traps for my soul
has forged a silver ring round the White Lake.
I can’t sleep tonight, my thoughts tremble,
a nightmare of news enters my dream.
Demons haunt me along a trail of sorrow.
An angel that foretells death
brings me a cup of dark bitter wine,
a garland of immortelle, yellow garland of the dead.
All my life I’ve sailed against the stream,
the swan’s scream is my voice of truth.
My name is a sign, the key to my fate.
Were my name written in the secret book,
they would forge me evil in the forge of words.
But no one can destroy my soul.
if they sentence me to death, come
search for my soul by this Bright Lake.
Then lightning will flash. A new beginning in time.
And when you see an arch, a heavenly rainbow,
it will signify my return to eternity.