You whose hands are more innocent than mine, poem by Vesna Parun
You whose hands are more innocent than mine you who is as wise as the complacence itself. you who can read better than myself loneliness from his forehead You who can chase away from his face the slow shadows of doubt like the spring wind chases away the shadows of clouds over the hill.
If your embrace gives courage to the heart, and your tights end the pain, if your name is the heaven to his thoughts, and your throat shade to his resting place and the night of your voice an orchard still untouched by storms.
Then stay by him and be more devoted tha…