* * *
Before the beginning of beginnings clumsy Virgil
to all poets, born in vain,
God knows why bequeathed hopeless
sadness of his genial creations.
* * *
Silence like a silence,
silent, forgotten, waiting for the call,
it is, like a bent willow,
that leaned over the water
in its thoughtful greatness,
and voices, like childish birds
with incredible simplicity
rankle it – what’s wrong with you?
* * *
One insists,
that all this is a lie,
other insists,
that this is very strange,
but I’ve seen myself,
like early morning
the crows pecked
eyes of the dew.
*** I dreamed of your eyes - islands of loneliness in the ocean of human…
While night declaims, essential peacefully melts, dissolves, disappears in the cloudless air of life-giving oblivion.…
*** 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…