Dark Chords
What am I for the world so wonderful:
the word mute in an unreleased verse,
the tormented pause in song,
fourth picture of triptych ...
In the theater of life /without sufleurs/
I'm not even an inclined tree,
I am not even a bush, and a sheet deflated,
in the order of numbers-the smallest number,
one of the ants working without memory
obedient little bee in his hive,
in a small hole returning to a covenant,
still alive, but until when, O God ...
translation from Bulgarian: the author
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
