In The Land Of Water

Child, there is the river.

That dewy mirror in which the world is reflected.

Look!

Her water is glass framed in a silver frame.

The bridge is reflected in it

And new vegetation sprouted in the spring.

The sun doesn’t shine in vain

-looks at us.

The water gurgles noiselessly.

Nothing is safe from her onslaught.

The silver cloud is in our eye,

But he left, the river took him.

Under the bridge sleep the guardians of darkness.

Distant stimuli howl and frighten us.

But remember, flowers remember us

Above our heads time passes as like nothing happened.

In the run of the water

The river will burst like down

And you are a branch, a morning trunk.

The River Flows In Silence 

I lay in the grass on the hill for a long time, now I know 

the language of the bees. I have been preparing for this road for a long time,

Today I am an old man who knows all fairy tales.

At sunset, my mother calls us for dinner,

Because in our home no one does not sit at the table alone.

As a child, I used to find napkins stuck in the bricks

And in them-dry pumpkin seeds for the coming spring 

when everything will sing. My mother is poetry.

Thеsе are the memories of an innocent child

Which remember the white sun and leads come from who knows where.

From poems new poems were born, they don’t want to be silent.

I forge my weapons from their heat I go into the heart of the forest  

I tore a one leaf and the whole trembled, froze.

Time is running out. Am I meant to be to have neither love nor a roof over my head?

River, hi! You are on your way to your sea,

I am the tongue of the winds. Beneath my chin the sun shines, it’s summer here

Do you know, Thay sold on the markets the sea salt from my hear. 

I find traces of yellow paint where a star has fallen.

At sunrise, my mother wakes me up with a glass of fresh milk and warm bread,

While I’m eating, the crust crackles and bursts.

I am far from white-haired winter.

Oh, river that you flow in silence! We will not die together

And in all the worlds we will continue to look for each other.

We are shadows and voices from the gods.

The Return Of The River

A mad dog is running in strange directions through wheat fields.

The fanny shape of longing lives in a house at the end of a blind street.

There, inside, the answering machine’s voice speaks to the sun,

Then come the angels of indifference with flattened faces.

They observe the volcano from the first window and

With a hoarse voice in one word they say:

These days, if not tomorrow, there will be praise of innocence,

Reading the silence and diving in one breath.

The river returns, this is her unwritten poem, unsung,

This is her deleted space. Under the rainbow of the night,

Dead has seaweed hair. The dead branch comes to life.

The poetess loves life, and death loves her.

She sits down and writes a deadly letter.

She sits down and writes a chronicle of a restless dream.

She writes: Sometimes it’s January in the middle of the summer.

It was so nice for us. If it’s luck, I’m happy.

Purple rain is falling. Later, the light burns a hole in the day,

Therefore, the river returns with a hoarse voice.

For a long, long time she sang in the rain

Under the rainbow of night.

I know that you know, writes the poetess

That all loves are unusual. This is a time of lies,

On the first snow, The forest spirit and ballades.

I’m happy, she writes. If that is happiness. 

GORDANA KARAKASHEVSKA

GORDANA KARAKASHEVSKA was born in 1973. She is a poet, storyteller, essayist and translator from English and Italian. Her poems have been published in more than fifty world languages. She is a participant in numerous events and international poetry festivals. She has published the books of poems: A Broken Poet and Other Poems, House of Paper and the way of Water; the book of short stories: Signor Giordano and... and the novella Undressing. For OPA, she presents herself with 3 poems from the latest collection of poems The Way of Water, which came out in May 2023 with financial support from the Ministry of Culture of Macedonia.