Stanislava Stanoeva

Poetry

A TOUCH

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* * *

Translated by: Svetlana Komogorova-Komata

4.00   (3 votes)

Black crows come flying

and form up by age.

Outside, the thin road

is silent and pale.

 

The noise is inside us

and it is so usual

that if snowflakes flit,

they’re only delusional.

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