A keresés eredménye

A poem

There are many words, many words,
and in the middle is one,
no one so lonely as this,
no other, no other.
Like fieldfare flies to Karst in light flow in autumn time,
in forest, behind pines
she fitts to lonely world.
Hunters shoots are resounding through the forest,
look, they shoot her down.
For what did you came, the thought, to Karst in this gloomy autumn time?
The shoots get lost in the distance..
 

Night arabesque

All the pregnant women are sleeping
in the quiet of the forest
Who do you, a traveller, think of
when you return home?
Your shadow is bright,
your hands are white
giving, giving, giving
Cold to the painful heart
 
You said 'keep it up!' So I did.