(111/365) Poem by Karsimir Vardyev

Katerina has taken on the challenge of translating poems from Bulgarian and publishing 365 of them on her blog during 2015! This is post number 111!

The first publication of this translation was in The Season of Delicate Hunger: Anthology of contemporary Bulgarian Poetry

Homecoming

1
come back
to the garden of eden
even
the worms
there
grieve
for you

2
the fruits
there
dream
of your teeth

3
the lianas
thirst
to embrace
your white
waxy
ribs

4
at the memory
of your slender
body
the lake
smiles
in waves

5
the ghost
of your old dog
under the bench
dreams
and twitches

6
the green moss
under the apple tree
still holds
forms
of bodies

7
the spiders
heard
you’re coming
they’re knitting
bed sheets
for you

8
the blossoms
of the trees
fly away
each spring
seeking
your hair

9
the empty pantry
dreams of
holidays

10
the great grandchildren
of your first
cat
recount
legends
of people

11
scattered
in grass and flowers
the beads
think
they are stones

12
the elastic native
presses you
the legs
start resembling
roots
breathe deeply

Author: Krasimir Vardyev
Translated from the Bulgarian by Katerina Stoykova-Klemer

Krasimir Vardyev has received awards for his poetry and prose, among which is the Southern Spring Award for his debut poetry collection, Curb, in 2001. He is the author of three poetry books.

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(110/365) Poem by Ivanka Mogilska

Katerina has taken on the challenge of translating poems from Bulgarian and publishing 365 of them on her blog during 2015! This is post number 110!

The first publication of this translation was in The Season of Delicate Hunger: Anthology of contemporary Bulgarian Poetry

Prayer

I want to be an animated character.
I want someone to draw me.
To think with my head.
To talk with my mouth.
To become a participant in a comic strip.
I want, whenever I make a mistake,
the artist to rub me out.
With an eraser.
And then
to draw me again.
Pure and righteous.
I want to be
a part of the matrix
and when it gets dangerous,
to hide in the rows
of identical screws,
wheels and buttons.
I want to be
the final credits
and the music at the beginning,
and if possible …
to choose
my artist.

Author: Ivanka Mogilska
Translated from the Bulgarian by Katerina Stoykova-Klemer

Ivanka Mogilska is the author of poetry books and a novel. She lives in Sofia and works as a copywriter.

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(109/365) Poem by Rossen Karamfilov

Katerina has taken on the challenge of translating poems from Bulgarian and publishing 365 of them on her blog during 2015! This is post number 109!

The first publication of this translation was in The Season of Delicate Hunger: Anthology of contemporary Bulgarian Poetry

***

this poem is dedicated
to that 1% grief
I keep secret
and which now melts
at the bottom of my glass
it’s dedicated
to the collapses and the surges
to the sighs and the orgasms
to our light and dark selves
to my father’s absence
to the bottle of Captain Morgan
which is never the same
to this unfathomable narcotic
world chosen by me to be born into
to my friends who are
my spine in the truest sense
and to poetry which taught me
to be insubordinate to loneliness

Author: Rossen Karamfilov
Translated from the Bulgarian by Katerina Stoykova-Klemer

Rossen Karamfilov is the author of two poetry collections—The Eagle and the Child (2011) and Stereo Silence(2013).

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(108/365) Poem by Ivaylo Dobrev

Katerina has taken on the challenge of translating poems from Bulgarian and publishing 365 of them on her blog during 2015! This is post number 108!

Arithmetic

And you – a negligible part
of the giant clock,
yet entirely critical
for its mechanisms,
be assured that time
is an endless loving cloak -
a totality of dependencies
on mutuality.

Author: Ivaylo Dobrev
Translated from the Bulgarian by Katerina Stoykova-Klemer

Ivaylo Dobrev is the author of the poetry book Bird in the Keyhole (Zhanet 45, 2014). He lives and writes in Sofia.

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(107/365) Poem by Aksinia Mihaylova

Katerina has taken on the challenge of translating poems from Bulgarian and publishing 365 of them on her blog during 2015! This is post number 107!

Late Lesson

This is not Mom’s garden,
where among the beds with gillyflowers and parsley
I was taught to live
within my means,
to balance the rusty scales of freedom
between two homecomings.

Many a year I wore it – an invisible
green scarf around my neck
and more so with my eyes than with my heart
I inhaled the aroma of other exotic gardens:
botanical, balconical,
Luxembourg’s, hanging,
yet I could not fathom
the world’s miracles.

This is a garden at the end of June,
the holiday has passed, the coffee
sits unfinished on the table,
the whole morning a turtle
has been trying to climb the white staircase
and while tapping its shell on the flowerpots
at the foot of the first step,
it teaches me to live
within my dreams.

Author: Aksinia Mihaylova
Translated from the Bulgarian by Katerina Stoykova-Klemer

Aksinia Mihaylova is the author of several poetry books, most recently Switching the Mirrors (Zhanet 45, 2015). She has translated over 30 books of poetry and prose. Her French-language book, Heaven for Losing won the prestigious Apollinaire poetry award.

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(106/365) Стихотворение от Клинт Маргрейв

Katerina has taken on the challenge of translating poems from Bulgarian and publishing 365 of them on her blog during 2015! This is post number 106!

Втория ден на годината

Никой никога не го споменава.

Купоните са свършили.
Конфетите са изметени и изхвърлени.
Болката в главите е изчезнала.

Може би заради това винаги съм предпочитал
втория ден на годината.

Защото е обикновен, непретенциозен.

Улиците са тихи.
Магазините са отворени.
Няма паради и футболни мачове.

Можеш да вървиш без да се чувстваш самотен.

Никой не иска да откаже цигарите,
да предложи женитба
или да ​си пожелае нещо неизпълнимо.

На втория ден от годината
никой нищо не очаква.

Плановете са отменени,
двойките продължават да се карат,
​вземат се по-​мащабни и по-добри решения.

Автор: Клинт Маргрейв
Преводач: Катерина Стойкова-Клемър

Клинт Маргрейв е поет, който живее в Калифорния. Автор на една стихосбирка, “Ранната смърт на човека”.

The poem in its original:

The Second Day of the Year

No one ever talks about it.

The parties have ended.
Confetti has been swept up and thrown away.
Headaches have disappeared.

And maybe that’s why I’ve always preferred
the second day of the year.

Because it’s ordinary, unassuming.

The streets are quiet.
Stores are open.
There are no parades or football games.

You can walk without feeling lonely.

Nobody wants to quit smoking
or propose,
or make promises they can’t keep.

On the second day of the year,
nobody expects anything.

Plans are struck down,
couples go on fighting,
bigger and better resolutions get made.

Clint Margrave
from The Early Death of Men (NYQ Books)

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(105/354) Poem by Petja Heinrich

Katerina has taken on the challenge of translating poems from Bulgarian and publishing 365 of them on her blog during 2015! This is post number 105!

The Field Has Been Harvested

////
and low, so I see
two rabbits chasing each other

through it — John Ashbery
says he loves cliches

language that has worked well
for so many generations
through hard times

I can’t believe my eyes
I think one of the rabbits is a fox

Author: Petja Heinrich
Translated from Bulgarian by Katerina Stoykova-Klemer

Petja Heinrich is the author of a five books of poetry, most recently Lotus (Small Stations Press, 2014). She is the founder of the print poetry journal “But Poetry.” She lives and works in Dusseldorf, Germany.

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(104/365) Poem by Bozhidar Pangelov

Katerina has taken on the challenge of translating poems from Bulgarian and publishing 365 of them on her blog during 2015! This is post number 104!

Shudder

Among the blooming jasmine
you have no shadow,
but breath,
which pulses.
The dusk is meek—
the dream of a child
fallen asleep by his dad
(after a long story)
the sound of arriving summer
in a winding seashell.
Hug your knees
and you will hear:
“The life given to us
we lived for different
reasons …”
And the sea stayed
in circles.
Sank in between
the matte stars
(in the marble).
We’re left with a long road
toward hope.
Shudder—

beyond.

Author: Bozhidar Pangelov
Translated from Bulgarian by Katerina Stoykova-Klemer

Bozhidar Pangelov is the father of three children and the author of several poetry books. His poems have been widely published and translated.

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(103/365) Poem by Kristin Dimitrova

Katerina has taken on the challenge of translating poems from Bulgarian and publishing 365 of them on her blog during 2015! This is post number 103!

Daylight

Like the ant that lugs a crumb
but has forgotten where the anthill is,
she stares at the details,

cleans the sink with her utmost attention.
These scenes in films,
who makes them up?

And so, between two men—
one behind her back,
the other still in the coffee grounds—

she seeks protection for herself
whenever she doesn’t seek protection
from herself. And the phone—

one time silent, another time blabbering nonsense,
on the third she breaks it.
What an abyss of time in front of us

and behind us, Marcus Aurelius,
I agree. And in the middle
a button labeled “don’t touch.”

Author: Kristin Dimitrova
Translated from Bulgarian by Katerina Stoykova-Klemer

Kristin Dimitrova is an author of award-winning poetry books, fiction and nonfiction. She lives and works in Sofia.

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(102/365) Poem by Kristin Dimitrova

Katerina has taken on the challenge of translating poems from Bulgarian and publishing 365 of them on her blog during 2015! This is post number 102!

Bottom Line

Santa,
you’ve given me a broken toy!
That’s okay, son, that’s okay,
the important thing
is that you were a good boy.

Author: Kristin Dimitrova
Translated from Bulgarian by Katerina Stoykova-Klemer

Kristin Dimitrova is an author of award-winning poetry books, fiction and nonfiction. She lives and works in Sofia.

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