Strange days without you
I would like a tree to be my home
as for a bird.
The leaves that endure
heat and bad weather
they are your words, your seed.
Strange days without you – tenderness
flows by, the wind’s writing needle
traces songs
on the map of my wanderings.
I am left to look for you
among the stars and my pockets.
A clock is the stone
of another age.
You have a form in the dream,
passing hours
and a strange day, a great dream
when I want to be silent
and tell you everything.
Never so near to you.
Never so far from you.
Strange days without you.
All my life – a Vigil with you.
selection from “Vigils”
AuthorRadovan Pavlovski