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.