Read an Excerpt
Turning with the wheel which turns in my heart Tzveta Sofronieva 1 Descend the floorless staircase of the centuries where does the staircase rise, birdlike each step gives birth to a sun only a light wind tethers it to the earth where is confidence an airy white dress passing by a facade that surrenders dark windows for sale how will the boy keep going my shadow looks at him he needs three wheels as I three languages and a companion, or more than one his feet, his own step determined where is the airship flying that severed its ropes, and mine I don’t know which was a coincidence and what I decided for myself 2 A night, on a road paved with shadows where does this road lead while the stones rearrange themselves flat to prove the earth’s curvature when the lines mirror the paths of the current the electricity between ocean and earth and inform the sky when cars turn into ships when skyscrapers become a movie set how far away from war does this road lead full of high voltage in this peaceless world 3 if we followed the path of the silent trees and the dumb stones where are the stones heading between craggy houses on rutted paths where do they come from how many earths have they left behind to rise up here where do they lead those that have gathered under steep vaults past closed doors in order to propel the hard work of green summer upwards it seems so easy here to hang Orpheus on every branch and leaf light of my clearing are you up there 4 A hundred or a thousand years ago My footprint was worn in the sand nourishing, billowing past still foolish, shortly after carnival precious future, the arguments ever more unconvincing flowing entanglements born yesterday, moving on tomorrow call me, call today so that I don’t think in a direction where you are not 5 Leaning over your eyes I see backward into the nascence of worlds joyful women wear seven-eighth gauntlets nowadays and escape flooding on high heels they prefer tight blouses and renounce the halo of innocence they drive to the office every day look friendly or glum color their hair unassertively, post-emancipatedly don’t sleep as often with their bosses and only occasionally with their beloved shop before each cinema visit cook on Sundays, so that once a week can take an interest their calculations do not include god and me? a human life long I see his eyes and yours opening and closing opening and closing 6 Rien ne va plus a glass of water nurses flowers chairs stare at us, and far off a table could accommodate food or traces of poems but there is nothing, absolutely nothing emptiness itself is the observer it measures the temperature between inside and out sets the snapdragons on the roses air streams in inflating the lampshade anxiety-free fraying sense of home dream herb the smile of an absent angel there is too much emptiness to feel comfortable gingerly the mountain loses its grip the silence shakes the sky 7 But the sun is not a skull It is the blossom of the dandelion the unfathomable rubble below the balcony a welcoming labyrinth for mice a safe place to hide from cats and foxes new buildings are as brave as geranium roots tirelessly we look after residents and blossoms solve inequalities, learn how to leap from the bright brown native squirrel explore our stock of guilt and thyme the sun shines each day for free and the taxman does not suspect how many rays of gold we have failed to declare 8 The Saga of our hidden hearts all those places are gentrified today selected affordable studio apartments long term rental Paris Auteuil, Brooklyn et al. Rue Raffet rented on YouTube Villa Emo in Padua everyone's holiday home interiors, facades, nearby shops garages, hotels, mountains and squares forgotten mirrors photos in the archives celebrate the peace doves their flight between places and alphabets you, Tristan Torsi, Isaac Lang, Jean dе Saint-Dié Ivan Lassang, Johannes Thor, Jean Langeville Appolinaire’s son, Celan’s father, Geo Milev’s buddy lightbringer Orpheus, weary Odysseus, Yvan sans Terre talk to the doves, sitting on dull clouds that drink in the landscapes of civilization you take the sun seriously Every season is good for the heart’s labor any time is good for celebrating those who build 9 The one without land is not without a secret I look for you in Saratoga Springs Berlin Paris Rappschwihr Freiburg Birth Saint Dié Sankt Sveti Manhattan Padova Brooklyn Lausanne Didel Rue Raffet Palais d'Orsay Neuilly-sur-Seine Death everything means less I look for you between oxygen nitrogen and steam at home in two places, in love with two people or everything triple or not at all wrapped in cloth of the infinite in words 10 In what tongue shall I sing I must celebrate the words, not only you for everything that celebrates birth must be named in order to exist you are a puma because I call you so I call you and you are one of those strong graceful mountain cats that remain true, hunt only when necessary walk supple, majestic and look straight into the eyes after the californian I take the german words I call your arms arms and your home my home in my mother tongue I lack words since in bulgarian you firmly promised to be, and everything that already exists, resists naming I want to celebrate you without words Chestit Rozhden Den! 11 And how many lives are needed to become human this man who hasn’t noticed the woman at the door who is looking for the woman in the sky as if she were a pigeon an airship, a cloud a more-than-a-woman this man who leans out of the window without routes, ageless who would like to jump would like to fly who wants to become longing this man who didn’t know and wasn’t afraid to say that he doesn’t know who we are what is destiny chance naming the stamp of our sins what we are who he is who they we who I 12 And with the mill of universe grinding the time flowers alternate with light magic circles of non-understanding here I live, now and then, becoming human Turning with the wheel which turns in my heart
