Böcker av Ivana Milankov

To Thrace I have come, not on account of Rome. To Thrace I have come, not on account of Latin festivals. To Thrace I have come, not on account of pompous expanses. To Thrace I have come for something quivering, inviting, that has never existed in the senses and in reason before. To Thrace I have come On account of one wild spring. I thought perhaps the one I seek is still here, the one similar to me, the one I have postponed for too long as just before death when the rings are removed in a manner slow and solemn or when with royal deliberation earthly vestments are set aside.