Svetla Karayaneva in PlovdivLit


Babilon  5.00 / 5

I will learn your langyage,

Word for word, syllable by syllable.

The vowels will sing,

the consonants will ring.

Sommer rain in my sleep.

How beautiful the speech,

I don`t understand.

The play of the lips,

the fortress of the teeth,

the garden of love...


over the green terrases,

somewhere slaves

push the wheel around.

The tower is high,

and looms up to heaven.

The shattered speech,

the scattered tongues,

will not complete it.

I will learn your language.

The words will pass

through the atria of the town,

and their roots will cling.

The lofty gardens of love,

a seed in the clay.

Then sunny moisture –

the speech is ieafing out,

the shoots seek

cracs in the meaning.

You see, I see –

I am you,

you are me.


blooming clusters in the heart.

A trained parrot

in the branches.

Say, “I am you...”

Translated by Translated by Hristina Keranova


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