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1921–1943

SLOVO

France Balantič

Položi mi, dragi, bolni obraz čez trudno sijoče oči, daj, da začutim na licu zadnji zamolkli udarec krvi.

Umiraš in tuja dlan tipajoč neusmiljeno v duši ti grebe, objemi me, bruhni vame nemir, jaz ne morem, ne morem od tebe.

Ko zadnjikrat krikneš v ledeno temo, bom zaihtela med prste, bele od sanj, ostala bom sama na meji grobov, ti boš pa miren onstran iskanj.

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SLOVO · France Balantič · Poetry Cove