Our flags are splashed with blood.
Supported by standard bearers.
Never left.
Our flags are centuries of freedom.
The names of the heroes are carved in stone.
Our flags are riddled with bullets.
Our flags are wide‐spread wings of an eagle.
Nested and learned to fly in our crags.
Our flags are stuck in the karst
12 aprile 2024
Altri contenuti che potrebbero piacerti
Desire
di Nastasimir Franovic
Desire
I didn't see you nacked that night.
In your sighing, I felt all my vigor.
With your(…)