A Letter

I’m writing a letter to you. It’s in a maze. Like me. Surely you’ve seen the Perseids. Above the sea. It’s the same with the words, which I’m writing or have written. I don’t remember. And they are always another. Not those ones which I’d like to say. Or I’ve said? I don’t remember. I’ve abandoned the thought like a traveler who is walking to a harbor. The ships depart there. Further and further. Further … May I see you, how you’re walking along the little cobble street, which I haven’t passed in, to meet you and to tell you the love is one. I don’t remember if I said this to you. In fact, I don’t know if it’s where one should pass through to somewhere. I don’t know if you’ve seen The Perseids and the sea. I don’t remember. If I write anything else but one – one. I don’t remember. Bozhidar Pangelov