You Whose Hands Are More Innocent Than Mine By Vesna Parun
You whose hands are more innocent than mine and who is as wise as nonchalance and who removes slow shadows of doubts from his face like the spring wind removes shadows of clouds floating over the hill.
If your hug gives courage to the heart and your thighs stop the pain, if your name gives peace to his thoughts, and your throat a shade to his berth and the night of your voice, an orchard still untouched by storms.
Then stay beside him and be more devoted than anyone else who loved him before you.
Fear the echo approaching the innocent love nests.
And be gentle with his dream bellow the invisible mountain at the edge of the soughing sea.
Walk around his coast. Be seen by sorrowful dolphins.
Wander around his woods. Kind lizards wont do you any harm.
And the thirsty snakes that I tamed will be humble before you.
May the birds that I kept warm sing to you in the nights of sharp frost.
May the boy that I protected from stalkers on a deserted road caress you
May the flowers that I watered with your tears bring fragrance to you.
I didn't witness the best years of his manhood. His fertility I haven't received in my bosom ravaged by looks from cattle drivers at fairs and from greedy thieves.
I will never take care of his children. And the stories that I've prepared for them long ago I might tell, crying, to little miserable bears abandoned in black forest.
You whose hands are more innocent than mine be gentle with his dream that remained harmless.
But let me see him his face when strange years start to come down on it.
And tell me sometimes a thing or two about him so that I don't have to ask strangers who find me silly, and neighbors who pity my patience.
You whose hands are more innocent than mine, stay beside his pillow and be gentle with his dream!