Eastern Night Ripens

/, Blesok no. 07/Eastern Night Ripens

Eastern Night Ripens

A Fountain by the Road
A Waft of Prayer
Calm be the Hand of the Caresser
Noon Prayer
Eastern Night Ripens

Blow this night
Tear the wick from the candle
Leave the word alone
In the silence
To find its silent writer
And the black letter that ripens
In the bosom of darkness

Open your eyes
Demon behind tiny flames
This time we shan’t miss each other
Unknown face of mine

Only a few years are left for us
For fondling
For rumbling
In this deaf mountain
With no sunny side
With no shady side
Lift the curtain higher
Into my silence – my light

L. Miloševska and M. Reid

AuthorBranko Cvetkoski
2018-08-21T17:23:59+00:00 February 1st, 1999|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 07|0 Comments