You haint jis a cunning tear on the branch
a-throwing dust and dreaming in ourn eyes.
When yr falling
it resounds in fur way kingdoms
as fir the bittersweet seed – the wild boar
minds it carefully fore it opens.
We looks at you and shakes ourn heads
we mends ourn fences.
*The original poem is written in Kumanovo dialect of Macedonian.
Translated by: Lidija Davidovska and Michael Szporer