Words
Where is the sun setting now?
The wind that ruffled your hair, is it blowing?
Never again under the stone portal.
Hearts won't beat like that.
The wind will seek your hair.
And all our words will remain just words.
8 marzo 2024
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Paths
di Nastasimir Franovic
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tracks everywhere
paths made of thorns and mud one path, one man
no one before, no one(…)