I wake her for the Sun that explains itself though plants
For the sky stretched between fingers
I wake her for words which burn the throat
I love her with my ears
One should go to the ends of Earth and find the dew on the grass
I wake her for some distant things
That look alike the ones
Here
For the people with no face nor name passing down the street
For the anonymous words of squares I wake her for the
Manufactured landscapes of public parks
I wake her for this planet of ours that might become a mine in the bleeding sky
I wake her for the smiles in the stone of comarades that fell asleep
Between two battles
When sky was no longer a big birdcage but
An airport
My love full of others is a part of dawn
I wake her for the dawn, for love, for myself, for others,
I wake her, even if it is more in vain than to call a bird
That landed forever
She must have said: let him look for me and see that I am gone
That woman with the hands of child that I love
That child fallen asleep with tears still not wiped, which I wake
In vain, in vain, in vain
In vain I wake her
For she will wake up different and new
In vain I wake her
For her mouth will not be able to tell
In vain I wake her
You know the water runs through but says nothing
In vain I wake her
A lost name should be promised to someone's face in sand
If it's not so cut off my arms and turn me into a stone.


Written by Branko Miljkovic
Iconic Serbian poet, one of the leaders of Neo Symbolist movement
This translation was provided by A. Milanovic