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A Story

I only remember that she was

Innocent and slender,

And that her hair was

Warm as black silk

In bosom bare.

And that before dawn the tender

Scent of the white locust imbued us.

All gloomy I recalled it by chance,

Because I love:

To close my eyes and keep silent.

Next year, when the locust spreads

Its scent, who knows where I will be.

In silence I feel

I will not be able to recall her name,

Ever again.

Translation by Ljiljana Parović