Desanka Maksimovic


I no longer watch the hands turn, nor track the sun’s hot path; Day is here when his eyes return, and night again when they depart. Joy does not mean laughter, and his yearning outweighing mine; Joy to me is when we’re silent, and our hearts in tandem chime. I do not rue that life’s rivers will carry off my own life’s drop; Now blast youth and all to smither’s; Enthralled beside me he has stopped.

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