One morning when for me everything was fine

How come I didn’t notice the chasms all around us?

Here this man makes his bed above the chasm

and is joyous. This woman unlocks her house

with two keys and enters a chasm with another.

Some prefer to run over the chasms,

for others it’s more important to be public,

helping the competitors,

giving advice.

I face a still more unclear transition,

still more things

to get over.

The chronometer is prepared

to be lenient, but not

to show me the way.

Or to measure my panic.

Why am I here?

Why does life exist at all?

Why doesn’t the world fall apart

like everything else we give

special care to?

Paper can’t know

what's written on it.

Paper can only become a boat

and swim for a certain time.

Translated by Tom Phillips

The original Bulgarian text was published in: ‘Dear Passengers‘ (2018), Izdatelstvo za poezia DA, Sofia, Bulgaria.