Here you will find the Poem The Visit of poet Zorika Petic
I stand in quiet by the stream, and wait for a key. Either I was left behind or I left something close; a part of my life doesn't move. There's a loss as if all of history has been replayed in the dramas lived here. These horses don't know me, and the epoch is new. The fields are fields, the silver air no truer than anything else.