I searched for you among the tree-born shadows,
yet caught only a fragile, moonlit gleam.
How can I grasp the breath of a fleeing shade?
I ask, lost within the forest’s hush.

Through branches breathes the sun, its rays caressing grass,
where wandering thoughts dissolve into the distance.
I follow after them, drawn by a faint call,
though heavy grow my steps, as laden down with lead.

In the grass a spark of ancient light trembles,
as if the moon had hidden a tiny shard of heart.
I reach to touch the jewel, but it crumbles in my palm,
like dust of a moment that no hand can hold.

And still I walk along these winding roots,
among the trees that guard their ancient lore.
I hope that in the timeless forest I may find
what slipped away on a sunbeam — into the gloaming once more.

Tomaž Jevšenak