CLOSE THE GATES OF THE SOUL

By: Slavka Bozovic 

                   

Life consists of joy, pain and disappointment

often the burden of injustice suffocates us

then in the realm of silence we seek salvation

in this way we ease the burden on the afflicted soul.

In this strange, cruel world

people feed on other people's pain and torment

therefore, do not show tears, as a sign of weakness

they will bite you on the heart, pour salt on the wound.

Close the gates of the tender soul

build a solid wall, somewhere deep in the bowels

boldly, like Sisyphus, slowly move that burden

just keep quiet, so that no one notices or sees.

Draw a smile, go out among the people

do not let the ungodly rejoice in pain

it will pass, as will all that passes

With firm faith that better days are coming.

Open your soul to the paper, take the pen

it feeds on letters or completely new ideas

only with a strong will tears are overcome ...

Therefore, never show weakness in front of this world!!!

By: Slavka Bozovic

Country: Montenegro

 Last Dance  

Slavka Bozovic

            

I remember one summer from my youth

when I agreed to go to the ball, with a loved one,

since then, grief has been measured in decades

and, my heart breaks when I remember that June night.

It was our unique evening,

I wore the dress he bought me,

a hug shone around my neck instead of a necklace,

and through a kiss he whispered to me:

"My love, you will be the most beautiful tonight."

Holding hands on the podium, we stopped,

a storm of applause shook the hall,

we enjoyed the beauty that overshadowed everything

and not realizing that this was our last dance.

And now it's like I hear those magical footsteps,

and a striking expression sewn to the lash

as I intertwined with him,

as if his firm hands had turned me into a bird.

There is still indescribable sadness in my heart,

and the outlines of the time when the summer night was fleeing,

our last dance that was divine,

the game of unfortunate fate overshadowed everything.

I'm still keeping a black piece of tulle,

I never wore his dress again,

a sad swallow nestled in my heart

it reminds me of the last dance and lost love.

Maybe he hears the melody of this song in the distance

I'll ask the wind to take it to him,

so that he may whisper to him that he is left, sorrow and my eternal restlessness,

as well as pain packed into a letter without an address. 

© Slavka Bozovic

Country: Montenegro