Poetry

France Preseren
(An excerpt from the epic The Baptism at The Savica)

The warring clouds have vanished from the sk...
France Preseren
The vintage, friends, is over,
And here sweet wine makes, once again,
Sad eyes and hearts recove...
Srecko Kosovel
A suicide in front of a mirror.
A frightened soul.
The wind moans in the black woods.
The night'...
France Preseren
What was the need of you, little one,
My baby dear, my darling son,
To me - a girl, a foolish yo...
France Preseren
A Slovene wreath your poet has entwined;
A record of my pain and of your praise,
Since from my h...

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