مجموعه ای از شعرها.

a poem in release.

When it rains on Sunday
and you are alone,
open to the world but no thief comes
and neither drunkard nor enemy knocks at the door,

when it rains on Sunday and you're deserted
and can't imagine living without the body
or not living since you have it,

when it rains on Sunday and you're on your own,
don't think of chatting with yourself.

Then it's an angel who knows,
and only what's above,
then it's a devil who knows,
and only what's below.

A book is in the holding,
a poem in release.

•این شعر از یه شاعر اهل چکه به نام ولادیمیر هولان خودم اعتقادی ندارم به اینکه بشه شعر و ترجمه کرد اما بعضی از اشعار اونقد خوبن که حتی میشه از جنازشون هم لذت برد مثل این شعر.