Poetry by Emanuil A. Vidinski

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    Angela Rodel
    Grisha Manikatov
    Emanuil A. Vidinski
    Ivan Valev
    Ivan Hristov
   Petar Tchouhov

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Three-year-old Daughter

Argentine

Desire

Three-year-old Daughter

I have a three-year-old daughter
she climbs around on my books
licks them
wrinkles her nose and says
“It doesn’t hurt me.”

My daughter
has become a pianist
“It hurts
when I touch the keys”
she says
“The words only taste bitter to me.”

07.2005

Argentine

At 4:33 P.M.
in New York
Liza was drinking her afternoon coffee
sullenly looking at the unemptied ashtray
and reading a little book of poetry

At 11:33 P.M.
in Sofia
I was smoking and writing poetry
and I asked myself
I wonder what time it is in New York?

06.2005

Desire

Don’t ever ask me where I’ve been

I was burning up ants with matchsticks
they crinkled up like strands of hair before my eyes
they became little dots and turned to coal
and then the wind blew them away

now I am going home
leave the window open
to let the smoke out

06.2005

Translated by Angela Rodel

български

deutsch

I have a three-year-old daughter she climbs around on my books licks them wrinkles her nose and says “It doesn’t hurt me.” My daughter has become a pianist “It hurts when I touch the keys” she says “The words only taste bitter to me.”

Don’t ever ask me where I’ve been

I have a three-year-old daughter
she climbs around on my books
licks them
wrinkles her nose and says
“It doesn’t hurt me.”

My daughter
has become a pianist
“It hurts
when I touch the keys”
she says
“The words only taste bitter to me.”