Ave impregnable world

Ave, impregnable world.

we, the black pepper grains,

we, the salt of the earth, 

we - the capacious cotton fields, 

irrigated with irrational hopes,

we -who were sent to an ordinary death,

salute you. 

Because there is time for everything,

and what happened could be ressurected

in thousands of ways.

All of them-true.

Translated by Hristo Dimitrov / Edited by Tom Phillips

The Bulgarian  text first appeared in ‘Wings Made of Papier Mâché ’ (Janet-45, 2019)

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