The Night Is Speaking Like a Cascade

The night is speaking like a cascade. She’s knitting filigreed lights and shadows. Sunk in the deep sea of Sargasso eyes I stay quiet and don’t find words. And the scars on your hand are fading, in order to burn in my heart. Oh, sailboats after a long trip with all the winds in the sails – sand is calling you. But it isn’t death! Oh, it isn’t the end too! The hand is going to knock up a hut for you and in the wide garden it smells with magnolia and manuscripts… And I am a sign. Translator Bulgarian-English: Vessislava Savova rarebird © bogpan - all rights reserved.