When I climb
Up the tall clear sky
A narrow path unfolds
A see-saw screeching beside it
I rock on the glowing beam
Watching through the clouds
They climb up the threads
And turn into flowers
Cursing memories
The dream crumbles down
And the meadow above
Sings at the top of its voice
Saša Milivojev
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem