Normality

I remember the brown water of the Baltic.

The internal discipline of a boundless 16 degrees.

Petra gave an ugly shriek and a flock of ducks shot

into the sky; we shouted wildly, raised our elbows

as if from nettles; our legs kicked

and sank into the seaweed fronds.

Imperceptibly they brought our beautiful housewife

to shore, they plaited her arms like ropes,

they took her to the water

and while summer held to the blown grass,

while the clouds above us departed without hearing,

her face concealed a sigh,

drawn 

inward 

and still deeper 

than a normal thought.

Translated by Tom Phillips

The Bulgarian text first appeared in Празна зора/Empty dawn (Small Stations Press, 2019)