Cosiness

We fade away in our cosy houses
and say goodbye to our youth.
So piled with curtains, blouses, trousers…
No seasons. Our souls are mute.
We sink in sofas, decorations
so exquisite, so soft and fine,
and buried in a mid-aged patience
like fading flowers simply die.
This Mother-Nature, dressed in seasons
like a pretty woman walks around
and blossoms out her tempting reasons
in smiling trees with windy sounds.
And nightingales perform with passion
for starry sky and grassy rain…
so far away from complications
we feel no love, we feel no pain…
Oh, how I wish to run in meadows
toward horizon – melting sun.
But cosiness in sleepy shadows
dark-whispers – this is out of plan !
And so I soft myself in habits.
Arrange my thoughts – conforming guards,
my nervous hands – two timid rabbits
pulse-rate my tamed, fake-human heart.


Translated by Zdravka Vladova-Momcheva