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)