Евелина Кованджийска


Life has no words for death ...

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My hands are autumn. They pray ou...

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Someone put bars in front of the ...

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From me to the sun - scattered crickets,

tired violins gnash in the shoe of the largest

the heart of mime playing affection and stars

beats like a broken coin.

I burn with breath the line of clouds

where wolves waving tails

reconciled with a sunset view of the saddest eyes.

Silence leaks from a verse darkening palms over your face.

And the wind speaks an unknown language to me,

in which melodies choke words.

Dandelions cry unloved, begin to fly, burst,

and suggest to me that the joy and the sun are to anyone

when you want to plunge into the fatigue.

It hides a falling rain from that broken in rags cloud

where I hid my last loneliness that do not share with anyone.

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