Through the window of a song

This is not simply a song, simply a mouth.

It’s a hole the eternal world bursts through,

the breath of true chaos where intentions

are primordial sparks. Every sense

is equally awake, unreconciled, undistorted,

the point exists only for itself, time

has yet to be born.

It’s a gap the most ancient songs burst through

on their leather wings,

a narrow window onto that

which maybe we were

and which we could be.

Windows. They open, they close.

The fear of draught makes us extra careful.

Are you frightened of the dark?

With you – no.

Translated by Tom Phillips

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

The English text first appeared in: Blackbox Manifold