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Miroslava Odalovic

Rookie - 42 Points (Montenegro)

A Beat Of Sorrow That Thinks Of Beauty/Otkucaj Tuge Sto Ljepotu Mni

it takes a memory that runs over itself
to get to learn and endless southern rhythm
it takes a fire that burns itself down
to get to know an ocean wave
it takes tender enough strong enough fingers
to summerize anything into a touch
so that the heard amidst the things could recognise
a beat of sorrow that thinks of beauty

it takes much more and reaches much stronger
to ask for more to search and look
so as to eventually know
the one in the seed of wake planted
the being cut off from itself
into the cliffs of the world pushed forever
it takes a huge knowledge an endless one
of this world's drama
for just one beat of sorrow that thinks of beauty

otkucaj tuge što ljepotu mni
potrebno je sjećanje koje samo sebe gazi
da bi se spoznao beskrajni ritam juga
potrebna je vatra koja samu sebe spaljuje
da bi se spoznao okeanov talas
potrebni su dovoljno nježni i snažni prsti
da bi se išta saželo u dodir
da bi srce u srži svega moglo da prepozna
otkucaj tuge što ljepotu mni

potrebno je mnogo više mnogo snažnije
da se ište dalje da se traži
da bi se najzad saznalo
ono u sjemenu buđenja začeto
od sebe samog otkinuto biće
u urvine svijeta zauvijek bačeno
potrebno je jedno veliko beskrajno veliko
poznavanje drame ovog svijeta
za samo jedan otkucaj tuge što ljepotu mni


Submitted: Friday, June 01, 2012
Edited: Saturday, June 02, 2012

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  • Rookie Terence George Craddock (6/12/2012 5:01:00 PM)

    Sorrow Rebirth Thinks Of Beauty

    a huge knowledge of sorrow
    must always think of beauty
    memories running over themselves
    are fires burning tortured souls
    rebirth is born in rhythm ocean waves
    wavelets are tender finger ripples
    stroking skin of land shorelines
    strong fingers massage knotted rocks

    rubbing down into sand heartaches
    baked on long hot wave eroded days
    summarize ebb flow coastal beaches
    beauty haunts all tidal manifestations
    wind wave bird song sing salt choruses
    each sunrise sunset paint shades of skies

    beauty awaits in promise discoveries
    washed up upon shore is storm sorrow
    but in waste wake awaits hope tomorrow
    tides clean sweep sand tide moon margins
    search out treasures in childhood memories
    sea calls in every salted shell rejoice hearts

    Dedicated to Miroslava Odalovic.
    Copyright © Terence George Craddock (Report) Reply

Read all 2 comments »

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