i want to entangle myself in the golden locks
of the autumn dawn, after which the fallen leaves crave
like lost little angels, my grandfather man-e chases the gods
and lets the elves go in the tales he tells
while the smell of the loaf she bakes spreads ,
my grandmother dona unfolds a thin, white cloth, interwoven
with silk, and thus draws a crooked and innocent path
between the round mirror and the sun; one wee bee,
hard-working like the Great mother, brings in and takes out
sounds and rays constantly, the big blue outside again and again
enters the horizon, foreshadowing infinity,
the stream with a crazy name from the Macedonian small town
kavadarci runs from a watershed to a watershed towards
the bluish galaxy with rocking coloring books –
that is the sea,
: at least once i’ve been far away
from the so-called Bites of the Night, the Ice…….
Translated by: Elida Bahtijaroska
EN 
MK