Milos Petrovic

To breathe my last through you

Smile will turn You into the butterfly
And only then
You should land on my cheek.

Wake up as an orchid
And let me breathe You,
Breathe my last through You.


Fondle snake with the morning
Fondle, with the morning, the snake.
                    Snake fondled with the morning
                       Snake, with the morning, fondled.
With the morning, fondle the snake
With the morning, snake should be fondled.


When they discovered Etna or sea in me
They told me that I was talented for Death.
That I can cheat and force
Bird from the fire to sing
While she is making cover with her wings
She won’t let the rain to fade my eyes
Because I dare to take love out
From the girls’ feet
With a strength of a bull
And to put it in front of a young man
Who is dressed in Moon’s ram’s fleece.

When they discovered ardor in me
They told me that Aiolos would burst it into flame
And to find in myself, the trail of circle
Which is, now, becoming a riverbed without a river.
All rivers are in my saliva for a long time,
Warm and silent.

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