With the voice of a saint
you asked me
to pluck
the white hair
that was disgracing
your head
It was as if I was pulling
a broken key from lock
through the keyhole of which
I could see your grandmother
calmly
clasping the only
black hair in the whiteness
so it would not spoil
the lunch
whose scent invited me
to do this
as quick as I could.
I Came from Another World
Magical Theatre
I Can"t
Plucking
A Cell
A Drawing
I Dressed in White
I Came from Another World
I Was Three Years Old
I Can"t
Plucking
A Cell
A Drawing
I Dressed in White
I Came from Another World
I Was Three Years Old
AuthorNikola Madžirov