To Ohrid troubadours
Oh wisdom, unexperienced rise the dawns
To ordinary words I no longer have the right!
My heart is shutting down, my eyes are burning.
Sing, you wonderful graybeards, while over my head
Stars are bursting like metaphors!
Whatever is high, vanishes, whatever is low, rots away
Oh bird, I'll bring you to your word. But give back
The borrowed flame. Don't blaspheme the ash.
In another heart our own heart we heard.
To sing and to die is the same.
Sun is a word which cannot shine,
Conscience doesn't know how to sing, because it fears
The sensible emptiness. Robbers of vision,
Eagles, are pecking me inside out. I'm standing
Nailed to a stone which doesn't exist
By stars we signed the fraud
Invisible nights, thus darker. Remember
This fall into life as an evidence of your embers.
When ink grows into blood, everyone will know
That to sing and to die is the same.
Oh wisdom, the stronger ones will let go first!
Only rebels know what poetry is,
The stealers of fire, not cuddly in the least,
Tied to a mast of the ship followed by
An underwater song, more treacherous by the day
The unconscious sun in ripe fruit will know
How to replace the kiss which rests the ash.
But no one after us will have
The strength which woos the nightingales
When to sing and to die is the same.
Life is deadly, but death it resists.
One horrible illness will bear my name.
We've suffered a lot. And so now, sings
The tamed hell. Let not the heart hesitate.
To sing and to die is the same.
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