Somewhere up at the head of the waterless river, where I was once or was I, where sleepy eyelids
were heavy with the shadow of ages waiting for the skies and the night lost its way, and I lost myself
in happy peace of an abandoned life, and faces of friends cold with death came back to the earth,
and we met, and the years of our memories with their hads joined were dancing below us, above
the abyss of all that was lost, in a colourful ring of tired moments, and the silence pressed its
forehead against the dawn, and a swarm of dragonflies, those visible essences of the sentinel, were
on guard at the final dream.
*** The last city, of the last star. Holidays of happiness. Years of doubt, years…
*** Childhood – flower pollen, garden of time is fading, prairie of expectations, silk grass,…
We are pleased to present you a video recorded by translator Anna Bednarczyk at the…
A scientific article has been published in the English journal of the database Web of…
*** Givingriddles light,burdenedwith a mystery of summer,frozen in the herbariumof omenin the museumof poet’s voice.…
Recently, the author published a new poem “Bach's singing of the faces of war…” on…