Turning with the wheel which turns in my heart
Tzveta Sofronieva
1
Descend the floorless staircase of the centuries
where does the staircase rise, birdlike
each step gives birth to a sun
only a light wind
tethers it to the earth
where is confidence
an airy white dress
passing by
a facade that surrenders
dark windows for sale
how will the boy keep going
my shadow looks at him
he needs three wheels as I three languages
and a companion, or more than one
his feet, his own step
determined
where is the airship flying
that severed its ropes, and mine
I don’t know
which was a coincidence and what
I decided for myself
2
A night, on a road paved with shadows
where does this road lead
while the stones rearrange themselves flat
to prove the earth’s curvature
when the lines mirror
the paths of the current
the electricity between ocean and earth
and inform the sky
when cars turn into ships
when skyscrapers become a movie set
how far away from war
does this road lead
full of high voltage
in this peaceless world
3
if we followed the path of the silent trees
and the dumb stones
where are the stones heading
between craggy houses
on rutted paths
where do they come from
how many earths have they left behind
to rise up here
where do they lead
those that have gathered
under steep vaults
past closed doors
in order to propel
the hard work of green summer
upwards
it seems so easy here
to hang Orpheus
on every branch and leaf
light of my clearing
are you up there
4
A hundred or a thousand years ago
My footprint was worn in the sand
nourishing, billowing past
still foolish, shortly after carnival
precious future, the arguments ever more unconvincing
flowing entanglements
born yesterday, moving on tomorrow
call me, call today
so that I don’t think in a direction
where you are not
5
Leaning over your eyes
I see backward into the nascence of worlds
joyful women wear seven-eighth gauntlets nowadays
and escape flooding on high heels
they prefer tight blouses
and renounce the halo of innocence
they drive to the office every day
look friendly or glum
color their hair unassertively, post-emancipatedly
don’t sleep as often with their bosses
and only occasionally with their beloved
shop before each cinema visit
cook on Sundays, so that once a week
can take an interest
their calculations do not include god
and me? a human life long
I see his eyes and yours
opening and closing
opening and closing
6
Rien ne va plus
a glass of water nurses flowers
chairs stare at us, and far off
a table could accommodate food
or traces of poems
but there is nothing, absolutely nothing
emptiness itself is the observer
it measures the temperature between inside and out
sets the snapdragons on the roses
air streams in inflating the lampshade
anxiety-free fraying sense of home
dream herb the smile of an absent angel
there is too much emptiness to feel comfortable
gingerly the mountain loses its grip
the silence shakes the sky
7
But the sun is not a skull
It is the blossom of the dandelion
the unfathomable rubble below the balcony
a welcoming labyrinth for mice
a safe place to hide from cats and foxes
new buildings are as brave as geranium roots
tirelessly we look after residents and blossoms
solve inequalities, learn how to leap
from the bright brown native squirrel
explore our stock of guilt and thyme
the sun shines each day for free
and the taxman does not suspect
how many rays of gold we have failed to declare
8
The Saga of our hidden hearts
all those places are gentrified today
selected affordable studio apartments
long term rental Paris Auteuil, Brooklyn et al.
Rue Raffet rented on YouTube
Villa Emo in Padua everyone's holiday home
interiors, facades, nearby shops
garages, hotels, mountains and squares
forgotten mirrors
photos in the archives
celebrate the peace doves
their flight between places and alphabets
you, Tristan Torsi, Isaac Lang, Jean dе Saint-Dié
Ivan Lassang, Johannes Thor, Jean Langeville
Appolinaire’s son, Celan’s father, Geo Milev’s buddy
lightbringer Orpheus, weary Odysseus, Yvan sans Terre
talk to the doves, sitting on dull clouds
that drink in the landscapes of civilization
you take the sun seriously
Every season is good for the heart’s labor
any time is good for celebrating those who build
9
The one without land is not without a secret
I look for you
in Saratoga Springs Berlin Paris
Rappschwihr Freiburg Birth
Saint Dié Sankt Sveti Manhattan
Padova Brooklyn Lausanne Didel
Rue Raffet Palais d'Orsay
Neuilly-sur-Seine Death
everything means less
I look for you
between oxygen
nitrogen and steam
at home in two places, in love with two people
or everything triple
or not at all
wrapped in cloth of the infinite
in words
10
In what tongue shall I sing
I must celebrate the words, not only you
for everything that celebrates birth must be named
in order to exist
you are a puma because I call you so
I call you and you are
one of those strong graceful mountain cats
that remain true, hunt only when necessary
walk supple, majestic
and look straight into the eyes
after the californian
I take the german words
I call your arms arms
and your home my home
in my mother tongue I lack words
since in bulgarian you firmly promised
to be, and everything
that already exists, resists naming
I want to celebrate you without words
Chestit Rozhden Den!
11
And how many lives are needed
to become human
this man
who hasn’t noticed the woman at the door
who is looking for the woman in the sky
as if she were a pigeon
an airship, a cloud
a more-than-a-woman
this man
who leans out of the window
without routes, ageless
who would like to jump
would like to fly
who wants to become longing
this man
who didn’t know
and wasn’t afraid to say
that he doesn’t know
who we are
what is destiny
chance
naming
the stamp of our sins
what we are who he is who they we
who I
12
And with the mill of universe grinding the time
flowers alternate with light
magic circles of non-understanding
here I live, now and then, becoming human
Turning with the wheel which turns in my heart
Les mer