This is a poem about sorrow caused by the war.
Like, when someone loses
a dear person, an orchard was left.
and, in it, by hatred, burnt and
destroyed house. Pain is in the hills
and in the river that longs
for children and swimmers.
Through the green willows, like
through a dream, I remember of a
green river, as if it were made of silk.
And someone dear was
next to me. And now,
I would caress the hills and
say 'Hello.' to the river, but she,
like the house, wants to be
alone.
Poetry by Dejan
Read 458 times
Written on 2006-08-22 at 15:30
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Sorrow
Like, when someone loses
a dear person, an orchard was left.
and, in it, by hatred, burnt and
destroyed house. Pain is in the hills
and in the river that longs
for children and swimmers.
Through the green willows, like
through a dream, I remember of a
green river, as if it were made of silk.
And someone dear was
next to me. And now,
I would caress the hills and
say 'Hello.' to the river, but she,
like the house, wants to be
alone.
Poetry by Dejan
Read 458 times
Written on 2006-08-22 at 15:30
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text| Texts |
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