(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!


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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