Watch the light

Watch the light.

Permeating through the bars of this city - 

so helpless and transient -

through the solid shell 

of its substance it flashes.

It shines, it warms and burns.  

Through  the drowsy weariness, voices, and the smoke,  

ascending to the impermeable

evenness of the sky. 

Look upwards. And inside. 

Because light is in remission now.  

Translated by Hristo Dimitrov / Edited by Tom Phillips

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