At parting by NEDYALKO YORDANOV traslated by Ann Wood
You're leaving, my dear ... I know ... Irrevocably.
So you firmly decided ... Nothing back ...
Your mother is not crying at all ...
A small droplet in the eye just steals.
That's where you go where you won't be hungry ...
Your masters are waiting for you ... Accurate and decent ...
You will start right away ... Safe start ...
You will cheaply sell mind, body and soul ...
Everything is arranged ... Reporting ...
They don't know Cyril and Methodius at all ...
You do not see the joys and sorrows on their faces.
They still confuse us with the Greeks and the Serbs.
Bulgarians, my dear ... Girls and young people ...
Very soon some guy will get married there.
And Mama will find a man rich in expense.
The Bulgarian is beautiful ... A true playmate.
You will live normally ... A three-storey house ...
And a swimming pool with a spa ... Well, how to get it back
in this poor Black Sea, no homeland
in which the ax sings in Rila and Pirin.
The children will be breastfeeding the Bulgarian children first
but they won't learn Bulgarian ...
But they will be interested in how bread is kneaded,
for three days again to visit grandparents.
But it will take ... and it will take ... not many years.
And the close relatives will be mentioned here.
And you will sell everything ... The procedure is fast.
And nothing will connect you to our country.
Don't think she cares ...
She remembers when she has to vote again.
My dear Bulgarians ... Are you leaving? Shame.
How to say - wait a little longer.
Poetry by Ann Wood
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Written on 2019-10-26 at 18:06
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