I cannot see what I have become.
Others look at me in wonder,
while I believe I have remained the same
through all that has passed.
And when we say our farewells,
and eat the wheat,
we all begin to wonder—
who will be taken next?
Nostalgic Poems from a Macedonian Village
I cannot see what I have become. Others look at me in wonder, while I believe I have remained the same through all that has passed. And when we say our farewells, and eat the wheat, we all begin to wonder— who will be taken next?
I cannot see what I have become.
Others look at me in wonder,
while I believe I have remained the same
through all that has passed.
And when we say our farewells,
and eat the wheat,
we all begin to wonder—
who will be taken next?