DON'T LET ME LIE
I lie when I say I have not been late,To a meeting point with a friend;I lie if I say I have not rejoicedWhen I see a bird weaving its nest...
I lie when I say I have never writtenA single utterly useless stanza;I lie if I say I have not been angeredBy those who act like blockheads...
I lie when I say I have not lied,When they have backed me into a corner;I lie if I say I have not exploded,With hot blood and eyes of embers...
I lie when I say I have not been disappointedBy this time like pitch, blackened;I lie if I say I am not offended,When I am looked at by feigned eyes...
I lie, if I say... But not always!...It is known how iron is forged;Even a stone, when left alone,Cracks from its own loneliness...
MAN FACING THE STORM
If he survives this storm,He will not be the same man.
MY CHILDHOOD IN THE BOSOM OF NATURE
Where the gorrece apples ripened*,Where the cornel tree neighbored the cornels,My mischievous childhood grew up,When it could barely spell the letters of the primer...
I was growing straight as a poplar shoot,Sweet-yeared like the season of early figs,Fast asleep beneath the lullabies of the cradle,Saddened that I could not find the needle in the haystack...
Now I need another life,Not to cross it like the Shkumbin river without a horse,A horse is what my third age desires,A horse for the other side of my wavy river...
THE SINS OF POETS
Poets commit sins, blunders and mistakes,Each washes away their own; I wash away my sin!------------------* Dovjaçka apples, (self-seeded, wild)
