Desanka Maksimovic


Hours no are no longer my measure of time, nor is the Sun’s fervent pace; Day is when his eyes meet mine, night is when they newly egress. My joy is not measured by laughter, nor whether his yearning is fainter than my, joy is our mutual silence in sore, when with the same beat our hearts cry. I am not sorry that down the river of life a drop of my existence will also slide, may youth and all depart now, greatly admiring me he stopped beside.

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