A poem for My Beloved
1.He is like a bunch of myrrh,
He is gilding my fingers
He is weaving into between
My breasts, He is cloaking on
My pearl buttons in sunrise redden
Like a droplets of blood,
A necklace of my heart,
A star of cinnamon tree,
A porcelain cup with milk
On a small table,
Till a silver spoon which
He is taking up slowly along
His stifling lips, and like a butterfly
Is swallowing a little chalice of my heart.
My beloved is walking and decreasing.
2. He wakes the forests green like emerald
Hayricks, white droplets, running on the
Face of the sky.
Eyebrows of clouds ,each snowdrop
Under His white fingers.
All blade of grass reducing.
The pomegranates are like big chalices
For Holy communion.
My Beloved lifted it.
His back have been cut of
Smart whips, blood veronicas
Shoots up His white skin,
Strained like a drum, for fierce mad
My Beloved will never be separated
From my breasts.
Myrrh deeply in my bosom and I
Live from her Holiness,
Golden lichen in golden hoops,
Tightens up my heart.
Beloved how giving out a sweet perfume,
Smells a summer.
Nina Mindova was born in Yambol, Bulgaria.
She graduated at Bulgarian philology, English philology in Paisii Hilendarski university in Plovdiv and Theology in VEBI Sofia..
She is author of six poetry books.