A Poem Of Ohrid

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A Poem Of Ohrid

The Tale of the Stone
Zaum
A Meeting With a Sprite
The Wedding of the Sun
The Legend of the Plane Tree
Fire Over Kaneo
The Tale of the Soul
The Sun"s Seed
The Tale of the Rain

A young moon over the lake,
the water still and pensive.
We sit by the shore, charmed,
my sprite and I. I hear wings,
her body trembles, her voice a whisper:
My love comes to me with the wind,
brings fragrance of olive blossoms;
My mother is now far away, somewhere
in the infiniteness of the light heights;
I grieve no more as a daughter after her,
distance cannot make us distant
while I long to kiss you.
The light changes over the lake,
I too whisper secretly:
The sky, my image of eternity,
I give to you, my love;
but, as you reach my brow,
you’ll see two stars in these sad eyes,
and then you will understand
the deep secret of my existence.

AuthorDuško Nanevski
2018-08-21T17:24:05+00:00 April 1st, 1998|Categories: Blesok no. 02, Poetry|0 Comments