P.S. I LOVE YOU

the empty wine glasses

the bed sheets frozen in the form of a shared body

everything reminds me you’re no longer here

once again my books keep me company

and reaffirm my loneliness

if Mann and Goethe are my only friends

am I rich or poor

but not sorrow - happiness is this pain in the body

which I acknowledge as my child

I know that while you make your common bed

and wash the dishes together

when you kiss the child on his forehead, reading him a story

you are exactly where you want to be

your happiness is my happiness

Translated by Hristo Dimitrov / Edited by Tom Edward Phillips