Summer 2004 • Vol. XXVI No. 3 PoetryJuly 1, 2004 |


From Croatian.    Afterward kneeling between the scattered pillows you think of death O child! I will not hush you into forgetting with new kisses I allow tears to flow on your pale face Tomorrow your heart, which now beats desperately, will be calm Tomorrow young women in your company will find it strange that there are dark shadows beneath your eyes But not one of them will discover the pale star at their bottoms Don't cry, child: the winter is awash in blue High, white snow will fall to cover my footprints

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