WITHOUT POINT
WITHOUT POINT
When sadness and longing come to visit,
when shivers run beneath my breasts,
I summon the night.
I close my eyes and double the darkness,
from feeble I become strong as a rock.
Beneath my eyelid, I arrange all the stars,
without contours, just randomly.
Without intention, without a specific number,
and each resembles you, and each is yours.
When sadness and longing come to visit,
and it all feels pointless to me,
I arrange all those same stars.
Nebojša Dragojević
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