Sometimes together again

In myself I carry days

with no longer existing furniture

and light which left the earth

a long time ago.

I lunch with my loved ones there,

I hand my mother the salt-cellar, not the salt,

I wanted the black pepper, thank you,

you've poured me a lot, take some away,

no need, it’s fine, dad, when you leave,

don’t rush, let’s wait for your gran,

when are you leaving? Will you be first to leave?

They’re at ease, make

effortless movements.

Again and again they dance the dance

that's been danced before.

And I’m there and I’m dancing.

And I, and I.

Don’t forget me.

Translated by Tom Phillips

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

The English text appeared first in: Blackbox Manifold