BLUE ANGEL
When Marina recites poems
the trams line up like young recruits
one by one, the substations lose power
and the sky remains silent.
While Marina speaks the verses
clouds in the sky gently caress
in her voice a little bell and a wonderful warmth
that warms my frozen paws.
Poetry is on her lips, in her eyes and mind
somewhere between Eros and Shame
I wonder where it suits her more
and in the church of St. Ahilija
the Blue Angel
descends from the wall.
08.23. Beograd
Vladimir Pantović
Prelepi stihovi, dočarali su kakva je jedna pesnička duša - Marina.
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