165cm x 50 kg
Big brown eyes
Too big for a face
Two legs two arms
Body forty
Vital
Looking younger
Surrogate to change
Sensitive to soul growth
IE lg core
Satem parameter
Serbian version
Balkan geography turbulent
Rich diverse multitude
Heals Balkan pain shots
With Balkan ethno balm
Understanding sought
A bunch of professions
Moving beyond jobs
Lungs full of air
Fly flight nests of the sky
See beautiful people
In ugly torn faces
The sun passes them by
Milks them yellow golden ray
But the human cannot
Pass them by that way
Reach the end of travels
Perhaps survive
Be that living pearl spat out
By the Dead Sea
Every place becomes a home
A bit of spirit sealed in the places
Never left
A bit of spirit sealed in the places
Never seen
Embrace them all
Marina might find you guilty
Of laughter in the world falling apart
Even though you’ve seen
A lot of pain as well
And made to choose
Call it a call or a mission
Those two words you’re always
So suspicious about
Call it a call or a mission
Without recognition
Makes no difference at all
As long as
There’s a principle of joy
Appealing to a few
Brave enough to share a smile
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem