it was louder than the clammor
of the neigbouring tables.
the words broke the silence,
the silence of the window glass,
deserted bottles
under our feet.
his voice developped into a tonality,
the tones shaped the voice.
the silence shapred the stories
that were yet to be translated
in all languages of the world.
silence and smoke: scenography
of long, sleepless nights
the scourge of text
sprouting from them,
vardar between your fingers,
and big cross on the hill.