Suzana Miceva


Instead of being a pillar
to keep the walls upright
he lay down and became a beam in his own home.

He climbed over his restlessness —
crown on the roof,
a chimney through which souls smoke.
And then he said to the stars:
– No dream has become a thunderstorm,
even when born in a storm.
That was all before it fades.


Translated by Stankica Palanova

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