All forms of farewell without touching
have been forgotten. We think of tomorrow,
as we feed the swans
with yesterday’s bread. From our memory
flows water enough to sustain several
fields of wheat. We watch how the rain
repeats itself immaculately, stealing
the dust. We have no sleep,
belong to no one night
nor any candle can lengthen
our shadows onto the walls of the wind.
Translated from the Macedonian by Peggy and Graham W. Reid