Novak A. Boris:
Sonnet Of Sonnets

Memory has two wings: the first is past, the second is future,

A luxury that hurts, a name of the silence.

Only dreams can weave time with water:

A magical mirror, a distant face of milk.

Truth is always being born at the edge:

A child is building the whole world out of clay -

A sand castle is stronger than emptiness.

A mother eagle is shielding calls of the weak ones.


Anguish opens like a curtain.

The child is a crown. I crown you, my life.

The densest moment: terrible is the gold of the body.


The blooming of the world demands a serene vigil.

Here, my child, I bequeath to you all the wonders,

The knees where I cradle you into floating.

Translated by The author and Richard Jackson