Poems by Marija Najthefer Popov

Poems by Marija Najthefer Popov
Once, something will press your heart.
Do not believe that it is disease.
When you feel pressure and become breathless,
do not look for remedy.
Somewhere in you,
your conscience will reach you
and tear you
causing unbearable moan.
It will sound like
my grief does now,
as it pours down my cheeks
and expects to move
into the dwelling of your conscience.
No, do not hope for mercy,
because when you hurt someone knowingly,
somewhere Someone sees it
and memorizes it double
(for balance).
Someone protects love,
not to be uprooted
from this world.
I was:
a lady and simpleton
a queen and a maid
darkness and light
night and day
insomnia and peaceful sleep
lonely birch
and oak forest
rose and her thorn
water and thirst
bread and salt
disease and cure
summer and winter
heat and cool
laughter and crying
on knees
and on the throne…
But now I am
knight and ember ,
who leads my own
above mentioned subjects,
into battle.
The truth
forged my shield
while crying;
and the sword
by love and treason
were forged for me.
I met you
in the rose garden
like a bee would
nectar and pollen powder,
to use
for honey,
royal jelly,
I brought you
into myself,
for fertilisation
in my life and
every future breath.
My dream of you
(in sign of rose
royal, unreal beautiful
in all her splendor,)
is like a castle hidden
in the rose garden,
all mine.
My dream of you,
longing, identical to barefoot dancing
at the ball of roses,
or walk through
rose garden
when darkness covers
the beauty of the roses.
Roses become strippers
casting their petals away!
With intoxicating aroma
they flood senses
until the down of my desire.
On my skin
rose oil
and your hand
rose thorns,
only a bloody trail remains.
My first walk through the rose garden…
When you step into my rose garden
walk slowly, barefooted
in a shirt made of the soul.
Do not put on you any other apparel
but code you used to unlock
my garden.
O, and do not press your nose
in the rose’s heart,
not too deep.
Admire her and gently
smell her.
She will retract her thorns
and hug you,
while intoxicating with scents
like with sweet, deceptive
liqueurs made of roses.
Do not force your selfthorns
will not understand you.
Fear will upset them
and they will come in front of me
like a shield
hindering your intention.
You will not escape.
Do not forget
you came in believing, committed
in the shirt made of soul,
bear footed on thorns.
If you stay sober and loyal,
in carriage made of petals
with horses made of fragrance,
you will be my gardener.
You gardener, will be
worth having
all my buds,
budding for you
in honor and delight.

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