Vasko Popa - Kalenic

What are my own eyes

Doing on your face

My brother angel


Colors rise

On the brisk of forgetfulness


Foreign shadows forbid me from

Returning the thunder of your sword

Back into its crampet


Colors ripen

On the light branch of time


There goes your beautiful arrogance

In the corners of my lips

My beautiful angel


Colors are burning

With the youth inside my blood



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