The hour of awakening
Yet, there is no spring
The sun is hiding
Horizon sleeps
In my heart
Winter’s unrest sweeps
Longings wrapped in
Silent ache and sighs
Through a tunnel
Thoughts rushing
Towards the old clime
And I do not know
For how long
Will I live from images
Without my fathers feed
Without my mothers milk
While my soul roams
Across a wide white world
(C) Dinka Bednjacic
Written 14. 10. 1992
translated from Croatian language 10. 07. 2019
Dinka Bednjacic 