Poems

The sixt day

Homage to Macedonia

When God was creating our world
and completed his final day,
he looked at his not-yet finished work
and with artistic curiousity passed
around Europe with his hands
and encircled with pride and power
the lanscapes and torrents of Spain.
He caressed the nice areas of France,
fruitful like wine and melancholy.
He wanted to mix surprice and harmony in he peaks
and in the rough lines of the lanscapes in Helvetia.
So he put snow, fiery secrecy
and blistering birches
in the dark silences of the Scandinavian wind.
He joyfully went down Bohemia and Italy
and approaching the Balkan he said to himself:
“What is left is this land prettier that the prettiest.
Light lives here, happiest and purest”.
And like exhilarated kid he touched the geography
having had for century
Yugoslavia. There he elatedly stopped
and with the hand passed by the heavenly
shores of the Yadran, inhaled with delight
the transparent and marvellous forests of Serbia,
and then to the South one blinding reverie,
one diamond brushed from thousand breezes, long,
in an oasis sprouting off the sunny waters:
there pulsated in light the land of Macedonia.
Then God thought again and become God twice.
Names so tender come to his lips:
Skopje, Prilep, Naum, Ohrid, Struga.
At the uttering of these words of crystal
birds were born and settled in crowns
and our planet to protect
he created the clouds white, those sailboats so high.
God delighted sat down, for he could not believe more
in his own miracles. Then he kissed
the dry hollow then in the valley of Ohrid.
He couldn’t stop the sparkle in his eyes
and cried before his work so fondly
And his tears fell on the valley of Ohrid
making a lake covering
the blue distances. And God
thought that the case is sometimes finished
by what is missing to his art and shouted:
“In you, Ohrid and Struga I would like to convert!”