“The voice of One crying in the desert speaks: 
 Marko,1.3: 
 Isaiah,40: 3; 
 And here The One is coming…
 A child in this winter
 or in some other one
 in the pound is drawing.
 The water accepts everything, 
 forgets, washes up.
 A name and a voice.
 The voice leaves hunger.
 Feeds up – the name.
 The water everything forgets.
 Carve me out of fire!                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
 
                    