My inspiration . . .
You, my inspiration and poetic greatness,
don’t worry, I didn’t stop writing you.
I remember you moments, occasionally, gladly,
but I keep silent that my heart would not betray me.
It will usually be late, when midnight crowns,
and when the winds, people and birds are silent,
only silence is my undisputed property,
anchor my eyes there, far away, among the scrolls.
And then your shadow shines, floats under my left rib,
fingers long, outlines caress gently.
In the endless wave of dreams I close my eyes,
a mystical, voiceless avaz in the whirlwind of desires I hear.
When you breathe the pollen of this rhyme into the celestial fields,
may your soul be strengthened by a verse written with longing.
Look between the stars and your name is there,
in a heartbeat, feel my heart tremble.
I fall asleep with you, wake up sad without you,
because of your metaphors, my heart is hungry,
my metric lips, they love your kisses,
You, my inspiration and poetic greatness.
By: Slavka Božović