Author: Pavel Bunčák

I sang a song for you:
Flower gives out its scent, withers.
I taught you how to get old
sensibly and stealthily,
how to reminisce 
without memories,
how ghosts grow up 
and sweet sighs 
turn into wrinkles.  
Zaspieval som ti pieseň:
Kvet rozvonia sa, zvädne.
Učil som ťa, ako sa starne
múdro a nebadane,
ako sa spomína,
keď nemáš na čo,
ako vyrastajú prízraky
a zo sladkých vzdychov
vrásky.

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