Friday, 18 December 2015

Среща в превод/Meeting in translation


За Васил Гандев

A book like a shaken hand
by shelves brimming with titles
which, for the moment, reside
beyond the cusp of my Cyrillic.

Let me do what I can to pull
some equivalent details into light:
how we are together in this flat,
your words and my presence

like something accidental –
or out on the balcony where a splay
of firework comes to seem like fate.
I can hear you, like a whisper

of cicadas, like a streetlamp’s hum,
and even in this noise I’ll find you.








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