Author name: Peter Semolič

SLOVENIA, WORLD’S POETS

The Hair

You let down your hair, and the history falls across your shoulders, your back, your breast. Again, I am a young lover having to persuade you that his embraces are the sweetest, that his desire   is the strongest. You have not reached forty yet, but you already consider cutting them off, to show the

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DENMARK, WORLD’S POETS

IN THE GARDEN

The heat was passing innocent from one room to another It was an illusory peace made ​​by the absence of people The direct grandson of the rooster who sang three times Was feeling better without the weeping Peter And it was sunny he covered his face with The cat’s eyelid. The girl’ shoes entered like

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DENMARK, WORLD’S POETS

FIRST FISHERMAN

My fjord was broken from another fjord In the rain that smoothes all curves And islands collide with each other. Here buses move straight forward Cutting the rubberized night with their blue headlights But up there you can get seasick only thinking Of so much dark. My fjord was broken from another fjord He is

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INDIA, WORLD’S POETS

Dear Hands

I love the hands that turn the barren land into a golden yield   those immortal hands that sow the seeds and celebrate life   those that shoulder the yoke like cross   those with angel folds that plough the land   those that raise the voice of protest with a unified voice, bearing the

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Italy, WORLD’S POETS

Dusk

The soul as a Black shadow   looks out to   your departure,   eerie bat   at the twilight of a love.   Slow  the evening darkens your smile.   In the dark   your eyes blur.   Aware insult   without dawn   the long night.   English Translation by Claudia Piccinno

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