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Night. In the night, scales of moonlight glisten.
From the mountain descends voiceless distance.

I have come here alone to the mountain at night.
Behind me lies a world, an anguish now past.

Listen—something is whispering secretly in the wood:
All you have desired, all is understood.

And here beneath the mountain, down in this valley,
the distance is breathing so close I can feel it.

In an instant… all vanishes. Dream and pathway. Distance.
I am alone. Above the trail, scales of moonlight glisten.

Ацо ШоповВетрот носи убаво време, 1957
Translated by Rawley Grau and Christina E. Kramer, 2022