Saturday, June 1, 2019




When you fall asleep, dream of ships;
they always return…
So does my soul in the morning
after having navigated the “northern sea route”.

When you fall asleep, dream of ships,
because they free you from the great anger;
with it they smash the ice, and sailing on,
they leave it in the depths of the Mariana,
where the worlds of darkness touch one another …

When you fall asleep don’t worry where I am;
I am already making you coffee,
a refreshment after the jorney,
so you can show me the silk nightgown
that smells of cocoons, old mulberry trees
and the spirits of the eastern sun.

When you fall asleep always dream of ships.
They return…
If once they never do, don’t worry,
I will wait for you at the bottom of the ocean.
To be the nymph’s servant and carry the lantern for her
where the worlds of darkness meet touching one another…


There is a tremble in my glancing eye.
Station is full,
and one after another are preparing to depart.
I dreamed of them all.
I know where they are going and where they will arrive.
Good for them!
Such a huge horizon and infinite space.
I am wishing them farewell
with well known pictures in my head.
Need to get away swiftly before I become insane.
It's already too late.
And I didn’t even drink my coffee.
I did not feel the ardor between my fingers.
...And they are already gone.

Train station is full again,
and one after another are preparing to leave.


I won’t know that I’m gone,
one day, when I am no longer here.
But even then while you sleep
I’ll place my head behind your lap, near,
and whisper what you already know –
“You mean the world to me, my dear.”

I won’t know  that I no longer exist
when the sun hides behind the shade,
when the day carries dreams, joy, happiness,
along with some rainy cloud,… afraid.
You know that it was all for us, here,
and you keep it in your heart, my dear.

I won’t see that teary eye of yours
but I’ll know when the wind brings the news,
when the audience leaves, when you are alone
how to lay my breath on your lips and kiss you tear.
It’s not eternity but only life,
so don’t be ever sad, my dear.


IVAN SOKAČ (Bachelor of Economics), was born in 1975, in Belgrade, Serbia. Prose writer, poet and short lyrical prose writer.  Member of the Association of Writers of Serbia, represented in collections and anthologies. Numerous regional literary awards winner for his work, which is featured in seven publications of fiction from 2019. His works were translated into English, Russian, German and Slovenian.

No comments :

Post a Comment