HANAMI
 
At night, 
I touch my eyelids with my cheekbones, 
with my touches I try to sharpen the features of your face, 
but with my fingers I only create flickering white butterflies. 
Still, I manage to take you by the hand. 

Suddenly, while we are running at the foot of the mountain, 
I stumble clumsily on the veins of the trees, 
I fall with you and so we break your mask one by one. 

Love, our chest needs vastness so that we can constantly observe the cherry blossoms, 
I'm telling you while we lie down... 
and the souls of one's ancestors, from the treetops, stare into our deep eyes. 

I am afraid of dawns full of this immersion in pain, 
which seems kind of callous to me: 
are we going to be that hungry after all 
and only harsh rubble and the wind will be able to 
to feed 
our relentless loneliness.

Azemina Krehić was born on October 14, 1992 in Metković, Republic of Croatia. Winner of several international awards for poetry, including: Award of university professors in Trieste, 2019.,„Mak Dizdar“ award, 2020. Award of the Publishing Foundation of the Federation of Bosnia and Herzegovina, 2021. Fra Martin Nedić Award, 2022.

She is represented in several international anthologies of poetry.