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ISSN 1409-6900 | UDK 82+7     Blesok no. 103-104 | volume  | December, 2015



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                     Peer-reviewed journal
Blesok no. 103-104December, 2015
Poetry

Poetry

Translated by: Elizabeta Bakovska


/7
p. 2
Tihomir Jančovski

Letter
It’s Not Up to Me
Winter Morning
I Don’t Feel Like Talking
Beauty Will Save the World
Geometry
What Can We Do?

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It’s Not Up to Me

    Sometimes I have a feeling in my chest
    as if somebody has squeezed my heart
    and keeps it like that. I don’t know, if he
    will ever have the mercy to let it go. It’s not up to me.
    I’ve held a bird in my hand and this feels the same.
  
    Freedom is not the absence of obstacles
    to get the things that we want
    but a feeling of lightness and spaciousness
    inside oneself. Some people call it happiness.
  
    Our heart is healthy only when we don’t feel it.
    Our body is healthy only when we don’t feel it:
    the arms, the legs, the head, the body.
    The pain is the awareness about our corporal existence.
  
    There are days when one lives
    and days when what’s been lived is being told.






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