Life : By MilošCrnjanski

3 years ago

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Life
None of it depends on me.
I recall how beautiful it was,
a bridge above the deep waters,
like a thin arched
white moon.
And you see, it comforts me.
Not on me.
The other day,
the ground around me smells of plough, or the clouds run
a bit lower,
and it upsets me.
No, not on me.
It will be enough if, one winter,
somebody else's child, shaking from cold,
runs out of a snowy garden and hugs me.
MilošCrnjanski