Thursday, February 1, 2018




If i were an eagle
my wide wide wings
would carry me there,
where nobody wants to go.
There, were every morning dark is as an evening,
there were the man kills the man, oh man,
there were the tears are flowing as a river
and blood is more red as usual.
There were the child is crying for the father
and for her son, is crying a mother,
a wise man is crying for the truth
and nobody leaving there in the peace
or in the good mood.
Damascus roses are not smelling any more
and the lovers do not lovingly sigh,
there where the gate Bab –Tuma
silent is, and destroyed.
There, where once the people met
each other and loved,
but there is no one
and all the people are disappeared
they  are all gone.
Nobody met each other nowhere,
not in the mosque
even in the church to pray.
There is human pride treading
and it, does not hurt anyone.
There, are nice eyes grey,
buried in the clay.
But I want to go there
through empty street
I want to walk there and sing
the love songs and prayer.
Please don’t kill each other
please don’t kill us any more.
Please come back at home my child,
because without you,
your mother’s heart
is already dead.
The roses can not exist
without briar,
and you have to know
that is better to die
on the doorstep of your own
holding a lovely hand,
than to die in the foreign land.
Syria cries and bags
please come back at home
without my children is hurting me
the heart of my own.


The last flame burns
Before everything
calms down,
the smoke dies slowly,
my conscience is spreading,
and the sorrow is overwhelming me.
Why does it always have to burn
and smell like the ash
before anything changes?
Is the burning
some kind of
a change?
The burning
of the time,
of the feelings,
of the heart,
and a man.
The last flame
of life burns
before we go.


Life is sometimes
like a birch without leaves,
transparent and grey
just the twitter of the birds
recalls on the new springs
and that the new beginnings.
Beginnings never terminate,
everything that begins
again and again,
lasts for ever.
Springs come
one after the other
and it’s beautiful to await them.
Each bird knows that,
each Butterfly
and each bee.


ELVIRA KUJOVIC was born in Novi Pazar –Serbia. She is living in Germany and writing in two languages. She is a mother of three children, started to write in 2013 and issued two books of poems.The first book was published in Berlin in 2016 and bears the name (Ein Gedicht schreit auf aus meiner Brust)The second book is published in Belgrade –Serbia and bears the name (Love and fear). Her poetry won an award for poetry in Italy. Her poems are translated in many world languages, especially English,Italian, Mandarin, Serbian. Her new books in English, Italian, Mandarin so as her new german book will be published 2018.

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