Green gloves rustle
On the avenue’s branches
The evening carries us under its arm
By a path which leaves no trace
The rain falls on its knees
Before the fugitive windows
The yards come out of their gates
And stand looking after us
(Vasko Popa)
More Poetry from Vasko Popa:
- Far Within Us #1 (Vasko Popa Poems)
- Give Me Back My Rags #4 (Vasko Popa Poems)
- Before The Game (Vasko Popa Poems)
- Far Within Us #6 (Vasko Popa Poems)
- The Craftsmen Of The Little Box (Vasko Popa Poems)
- A Forgetful Number (Vasko Popa Poems)