Three poems by Ekaterina Kostova, translated from the Bulgarian by Holly Karapetkova

Touch Me Rough by Syd Brewster

The eyes

The eyes, mother:
you only learn which door they open
when darkness closes them
with its tail.

How quiet then is the world
of shadows and silhouettes.
Night is everywhere                           
and you hear nothing.                                    

Time wears down the life of objects
until they lose their sharp outlines
and you begin to see people as oars
rowing the boats of their ghost lives.                        

All the rough feelings worn smooth.

Очите

Очите, мамо,
каква врата отварят научаваш,
едва когато с опашката си
мракът я затисне.

Така е тихо после в този свят
на сенки и на силуети,
уж само тъмно е,
а нищичко не чуваш даже.

Заобля се животът на предметите,
загубили перфектните си очертания,
и хората като весла навярно виждаш
как карат лодките на призрачния си живот.

И всички крайни чувства се заоблят също.

 

October

The birth of wisdom
among broken bridges.
Dissolving in the vision                                 
of peace and storm.
Appraising.                                        
Staking.
Drawing
concentric circles
on the tip of the needle
which you have pinned to the board
of today.

Октомври

Рождение на мъдрост
сред разрушени мостове.
Разтваряне в предчувствия з
а мир и буря.
Размисляне.
Рискуване.
Рисуване
на концентрични кръгове
върху главата на топлийка,
с която си забол напомняне
какво е днес.

Dandelion

Weave a basket from the promise                                         
of seeing my daughter and my mother.
Fill it with sunlight for warmth

when the wind undresses me
to cover some poor soul                                             
on the other side of the world –

a dandelion doesn’t remember
when it sprouted
or how it ended up
in this yard.

Глухарче

Изплети ми кошничка от очакването
да се видя с дъщеря ми и майка ми.
Напълни я със слънце, за да ме топли,

когато вятърът съблече ризата ми,
за да наметне някой бездомник
на другия край на света –

глухарче, което не помни
как е поникнало
и кога се е озовало
там.

✶✶✶✶

Holly Karapetkova is Poet Laureate Emerita of Arlington, Virginia, and a recipient of a 2022 Academy of American Poets Laureate Fellowship. She’s the author of two award-winning books of poetry, Towline from Washington Writers’ Publishing House and Words We Might One Day Say from Cloudbank Books.

Ekaterina Ivanova Kostova is a writer and journalist from Plovdiv, Bulgaria. She is the author of four novels and three books of poetry. She has won numerous awards for her poetry and journalism and currently works as a producer for Good Morning, Europe at Euronews Bulgaria.

Syd Brewster is a writer and photographer from New York State. She is a recent graduate from Chapman University in Southern California. You can find her on Instagram.

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