Naša

Brojni brci ovuda
Noću tumaraju sami

Dolaze nam vijesti
Svijet gine pod nemilosrdnim napretkom

Kola prolaze
Jovan, Josip i Jusuf
Čučeći piju pored ulaza u dispanzer
Pod prvim mrakom što na zemlju pada
Kao moćna čizma

Mrze, šute i misle o elizejskim poljanama
Gdje ruke grabe pregršti naranaca i
Sretni mokre u bisernu vodicu

Nadaju se grbave djevojke

Goran Karanović


Published: 14.07.2008.
Classified as: Poezija
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