A Poem Of Ohrid

High above the monastery that nests among the rocks
over the landscape comes first a rush of wind
and then the maddened movement of the trees.
An arrow of lightning throws into relief
a single tree; the blue-gold rainbird takes to flight.
Fiery drops fall,while in the sky thunders
the gleaming golden chariot of the sun.
When the sun dies over the Black Lake
then your sight fails, and your hearing for the time.
In the cavern where they cure the lunatics
rocks clatter about and bats fly in the gloom.
Male and female powers mingle in this dark hour.
They perform a holy marriage rite,
a dance of love and fruitfulness.
I, who know what it is to suffer branding,
delight in the raindrops that disperse my grief.
My spirits rise and fall, at one with shadows
of the dawn – oh may I see the brightness of the day.
The heavens are vast and I, so infinitesimal,
seek for a song in thee rain, a pearl among its drops.