Many years have passed
and we have grown white and old.
Our beautiful village
we have never forgotten it.
Green village, my Zeleniche,
you are not as you once were.
Your face has changed so much
while we were far away from you.
We remember the evenings
when the streets filled with children,
and the old women on their stools
sat together sharing gossip.
Your stone-paved roads
have now been covered with asphalt,
and with the poles of the power lines
the nights are brightly lit.
The two rivers of the village
have turned into walkways,
bringing together the villagers
who once lived somewhat apart.
The little irrigation channels are gone,
and the donkeys are gone as well.
The donkeys wandered far away
to find themselves some grass.
From the collection's own note: the images with these poems are AI-created artistic renderings by the source, not historical photographs.