Author Vasko Popa From the wrinkle between my brows You watch till day breaks On my face The waxen night Is beginning to singe The fingers of dawn Black bricks Have already tiled The whole dome of the sky Trans. by Anne Pennington Anonymous submission. Tags sky night Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments