***
Sometimes I see how the eyes of the sunset
are filling up with blood, I hear
sometimes, as a woodpecker makes notches
on the thick-skinned memory of trees,
sometimes I feel how life tails away.
Heart of time, I do not ask you where you are.
I see you, I hear you, I feel you.
Glagoslav Publications has presented a five-language edition of Alexander Korotko’s poem “Stus” — a work…