Christian prayer under the open sky
And a forgotten human regret
Floating in the blue air,
We babble during the days that grow into dusk
Eternal wishes of birds to migrate.

In the deep abysses of the mind
The wind blows a fog of heretic wishes
Voices of the night die out in fear
Like a distant siren of a vessel lost somewhere.

A heavy rain will start afterwards
And people will abandon the banks,
On them will remain signs of houses
And the dust of forgetfulness on the icons

Stones roll on down the slopes of time,
In their memory the wind digs like an archeologist
From the mountains anew will fall avalances without end
and dreamful stones running happily.

Translated by Mirela Cupi with Paul Cohn