I expect nothing
from the depths near the woods,
first emerald,
then sapphire,
then black.
[there's a profound wave over me-
wave of sadness.
thank you and g'nite]
Gray Moment
Momcilo Nastasijevic
1894-1938
And suddenly, all turns gray
as if burnt through,
and yet all lives on.
Secret friend, listen,
this silently-aching heart
pushes away all that dread.
And you, who after me
and in ignorance,
tread this strange path:
It is gray there,
grayness cuts to the quick,
gray are the eyes of the secret.
And when the trees begin to die,
there's neither grief nor warning,
just a dry leaf
which strangely with its hush
soothes the sufferer's forehead.
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