Par |2019-01-23T21:39:37+00:00 23 décembre 2012|Catégories : Blog|


In somebody's note­book
that day will be mar­ked
with a pen­cil.

Neatly packed grey fibre will fade gathe­ring dust.

The cup­board will open with faded brown coats,
bee­kee­ping suit, clothes for dif­ferent occa­sions ;
the pitch black umbrel­la will spread.

Red wine will refract light
crea­ting a red rose on the wall,
in the late after­noon.

Honey jars will remain filled with shades of pine forest.

Yellowish stone will press bound books,
like silence does with hours.

The night lamp will radiate blue­ness
below the pic­ture of Mother in sil­ver,
dra­ped in that blue.
Life will still have the same hue,
gene­tic struc­ture
conti­nuous­ly com­bi­ning.

Translated by Ivana Maksić