TWO POEMS

GEO MILEV TRANSLATED FROM BULGARIAN BY DOROTEA LECHKOVA

Art by Tim Peters

Confession 

Ich liebe die hektischen, schlanken
Narzissen mit blutrotem mund…
Felix Dörmann

   

In this hour of evening 
deceptions in silence and sorrow
I foresee, foretell, that what I 
love is diseased hope in my soul:

I love the neurotic, sickly
narcissi with blood-red
mouths in dusky rooms,
abandoned in loneliness and fear. 

I love the heartless emeralds⎯
green and lunar⎯like dreams on 
taut strings, distant, refracted
over dreamlike lagoons.

I love the snakes lost
in a savage dance⎯so cold, so bright⎯ 
I love the autumn fields 
with their vivid, fiery patches.

And these melancholic women, 
with fatigued, pallid faces
 ⎯I love their weak smiles, 
laughter before tedious poets.

I love burning buildings 
⎯amidst horror, the night, and the storm⎯ 
and their frightening radiance that leaves
grooves in the azure.

I love all that is 
crimson in sorrowful chants⎯
that truly splashes the heart
with doleful, crystal-like ash:

⎯just like you, strange! prophetic!
You entangle my soul with smiling
gazes in a flattering web of
enamored, silent languor.

 

 

* * * 

 

 

The moon, that old snake, 
strips its green skin deep in the
black woodlands.
          Cold and moist,
the evening silence is filled with the breath of
poisonous weeds. An ensnared omen of the
distant, mute lightning rods viciously
distorts the somber face of the horizon.
          In an instant
                              a crimson Demon
rose above the dark fences of world,
his cry enflamed the darkness:
                              ⎯HOSANNA!
You stop here. And from here, I begin.

I ask: Why? How mortal you must be,
unable to hear your own voice!
To not be left in some moment without feeling!
Remember: magic is not art⎯and you will
not find gold! Left at the bottom are dark
juices and venom⎯anguish⎯with
it you are baptized! Fasten the cruel ring
tightly around your thoughts!
                              You will not be left
without dreams, but⎯they are painful.
⎯Where does the path lead? Do you know?⎯
There are no exits in the night. I am you.

The moon crawls high above the tower,
that old snake, and in its yellow eyes, an
unyielding smile.