When love dies.. Refik Martinović

 

 How painful
 when love dies
 on the bark of a wild chestnut shell
 who is alone in the park
 on a wet sheet
 which sways on a dry branch
 and cries with red tears
 while in our bowels
 the snake in the shirt sleeps.

 How painful
 when love dies
 in solitudes that sleep during the day
 and wait for the dark night
 to dream those dreams
 which you stole from me
 and selfishly guarded
 under white acacia
 in the shade of your garden.

 How painful
 when love dies
 in a procession without wreaths
 which walks slowly
 wet cobblestones
 and listens to the bells of his footsteps
 mourning the Sun.
 which falls into the abyss
 looking for their new trajectories.

 How painful
 when love dies
 and others are born
 and open their windows
 to wait
 clear rains in early spring
 come on my dear
 to be born again
 and we drive the snake out of trouble.