Horse Rider

Horse Rider

Horse Rider
Forest
Bird
Snake
Rose

When will this forest pass
with the speed of a wild boar?
Dark in its foundation
proud in its body
it denounces the fire
and the sun in its boughs
This funny forest
in which I leave behind my laughter
and proclaim my heart to be an owl
and the umbilical cord to the deepest root

In this forest that passes
with the speed of my eye.

AuthorApolon Gilevski
2018-08-21T17:23:53+00:00 June 1st, 2000|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 15|0 Comments