A window is opened into the world. Through the air, The wind covers. Your lips tenderly whisper. Oh, those sweet lips, Tremble tenderly As long as they speak And my tears with rumination breathe fondled, With a bouquet of inspiration, Poem painted with words, My homesickness Mentions your face, It burns my eyes, Blinds them, My soul is supported with hope. Your glance Can blur The White Dunav Through Vardarec Transports your words, Through the sun The day lights your hair. During the silent nights, And closed window I dream Through my mind with the plume I sleep, Covering to the night With stars scattered With a candle from them Without matches fired, My homesickness heals up, Like an injury of a heart, With branches grows up. Walls graffiti covered With your name Wakes up my glances overslept In the middle of the street The dogs bark Killing the dead silence And on the narrow lane Your shadows swing Like through a charshia On paved road walk Arrive under my windows The homesickness breeds for you Black shadows cover your face And asleep me with lies But your eyes hide silent fidelity, For my homesickness Love diligence. Show to the heart How to walk through the time Show to your dream Where to stop - in my dreams. Many scripts will travel Written by the golden plume, The ink from the star dust, From the sky will trickle Like a rain radiant comets. I comprehend The romantic value Of this beautiful night, Full with darkness and seclusion, Through the lane your steps reverberate, And my smile tenderly whispers, The drums and the happy ensemble trembles My heart, It wakes my homesickness up. SO WHAT DO YOU GUYS THINK? It's a translation. These stupid literary magazines won't publish it. Why?