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WITHOUT LIMIT

In memory of our heavenly best man the poet Тodor Bikov

Translated by: Minko Tanev/ Stoianka Boianova

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The pavement is still wet,

and the leaves - dry -

perhaps wanderers in spirit

to predict a flight.

 

We are sleepy scattered at dawn

in cloudy performances -

the hopes shine pearly,

they glorify the sun .

 

We are transformed to breathe

the epic morning .

And God to love us

from the settlements Above.

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