SOMETIMES TOGETHER AGAIN
In myself I carry days
with no longer existing furniture
and light which left the earth
a long time ago.
I lunch with my loved ones there,
I hand my mother the salt-cellar, not the salt,
I wanted the black pepper, thank you,
you’ve poured me a lot, take some away,
no need, it’s fine, dad, when you leave,
don’t rush, let’s wait for your gran,
when are you leaving? Will you be first to leave?
They’re at ease, make
effortless movements.
Again and again they dance the dance
that’s been danced before.
And I’m there and I’m dancing.
And I, and I.
Don’t forget me.
Transl. from the Bulgarian by Tom Phillips