The Park (1999)

 

XVI.

So infallibly
swallows find their way and reach their flights upon the sky
flying over many lands unknown to them before,
and trouts spawn but only after they’ve performed the wild,
frantic syncopation dance against the stream of rivers,
flowing at the very end of oceans.
Of a Santorini woman’s kiss I dream,
in my blood I flee aboard Mayflower from an iron bull.
What am I –
one reborn a thousand times, upon whose brain
like a fresco on a fresco
each reincarnation leaves the mark of its own primal music –
now it is my turn to brush the colours of my own, or
am I simply a component of the Universal chain,
just a link resembling other links,
one that could be easily replaced within the whole
with a common memory and common voice,
like the birds and fish?

I don’t remember – I create,
in me the world begins to happen
and then through me it turns to past.

tr. by Peyo Karpuzov