THE CITY WAS WET AS AFTER A KISS

Apr 25

Written By Dimana Yordanova

People, betrayed by its succulence,

shivered on pavements

with their pink flesh.

They ditched spent caresses

in bins and sneezed

with the noses of bums

who found them.

And only the cafés, frozen in the lotus position,

languidly exhaled the waitress.

She slowly wipes the table,

here, today - betrayed by the succulence,

a woman will hear,

she’s no longer loved.

The city was wet as if after a kiss.

The bums don’t dare to peek in the bin.

While the waitress, gazing at the movement

of her hand,

slowly wipes out this day

and summer’s reason to be.

Translated by Hristo Dimitrov / Edited by Tom Phillips

The Bulgarian text first appeared in “Down the backbone” (Janet-45, 2018 )

Dimana Yordanova

Dimana Yordanova was born in 1986 in Veliko Tarnovo. She graduated from a fine arts secondary school, then studied Balkan Studies. She has published three books of poetry: The men and women I have been (2017); Down the backbone (2018); and Letters to Nia, to whom I did not give birth (2020), all three of them printed by the Janet publishing house. In 2019 her first book for children came out: What a mess! (Janet 45)

THE CITY WAS WET AS AFTER A KISS

On the tree that never grew up

THE THING