Blessed morning, the light tumbling
like a waterfall into this room,
but I'm no longer afraid of pain,
as the body rests dead in its grave.
But maybe you could ignite
a spark from these ashes
for look how the light stirs
our longing for the sun, lilac.
We share a certain quiet delight
when I see row upon row of your books
on the shelf - and all the hidden meanings
the face of a room full of worries.
For me, something is missing
from this narrow bed without a cross,
the smile on the loved one's lips,
flowers in a glass of water.
Blessed morning as long as you dress
this room with radiance,
I'll have no fear of death ,
only please give back love to this Job.
Dobriša Cesaric from Croatia (1902-1980), sent in by Lady T.