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Where does the sun go down?
- On the other side.
Where do my dreams go sleeping.
- At the end of the world.
Where have I lost
all magic and the moons,
and the emerald nights
in souls that stay awake?
Where does sorrow go down?
- In partings, in the dark
and in the violet rays
of eyes that are in love.
Where do I find my dreams?
- In partings and on moons
and in the violet nights
that follow every sorrow!
1 July 2000
A rainy blue-eyed afternoon
falls over our souls in a spring
tenderness.
Rainy hopes and good birds
spread their wings in white
boundlessness.
My sorrow is boundless and blue,
entangled in the twigs of golden
birches.
I have no faith in the parting
that sets me apart from my
dreams.
Countless deserted white hopes
rush into my dreams and wither away into
tears.
Tears run into a rainy afternoon,
a rainy blue-eyed
afternoon!
LIFE IN PINK
My heart is heading for the sunrise,
my heart's a dream, a road of green.
On tiptoe it will kiss the dawn
and you'll be very much in love with me.
Come, join me on my sunny meadows,
come, see the clouds and rain that are with me,
a rain of tears that long have stayed unhidden,
stray tears which have run down more than once.
Then we'll fly up to the sunrise together,
the clouds will show pink with smiles,
and we will think of a pink dream for two…
"Life in Pink" is a song of Piaf.
The made-up world
I live in
is much more beautiful
and better than you are.
The sun laughs there
among white branches
and blue mermaids
are dancing waltz.
I can't keep always
smiling
with artificial,
empty vanity.
I can't keep always
getting used
to written
rules.
I would like
to get drunk
with spring water
where the blue mermaids are
and I'd like us to be always crazy
and drunk
with quiet wind
and moonlike peace.
Do not bind me
with heavy chains,
my heart
can't fit
into a silly night
and crazy day
man's earthly pilgrimage
makes me feel like dying.
Just let me join the ones
I feel close to.
Let blue waltz wander
in the skies.
The made-up world
I live in
is a lot more beautiful
than you are.
I want you for a little,
I want you just till sunset.
Join me for a little.
Be mine just till sunset.
Think out for me
words unheard
grant me smiles and flowers
give me quick paths to follow.
I want you just till sunset
'cause afterwards night will fall
and someone might steal
our little folly.
Thus we may miss
the magic hour
when we can let
the nags of white dreams go.
And then we'll trace them
in those ghostly meadows
studded with dreams
not understood.
A tender little forest lives in my heart
with its green leaves far up in the sky.
It is so fragile, so bright white and wonderful
that I get lost in it and I daydream it.
That sleepless little forest with gleaming
sunshine
has quietly hidden deep in me its caressing
grain.
And whenever I'm sad and whenever I'm not here
it caresses me gently like my mother.
Tender little forest, stay with me
forever,
always give me shelter on a faraway
star.
"It is so frightful to be in love…"
L. Levchev
It's so frightful when you are in love.
At twenty, at thirty,
and even at ten.
But it's much more frightful
not to be in love,
for then your heart
burns without flame.
God almighty,
just look at us.
Loveless wanderers
are waiting outside.
But you stay huddled up
in the heavenly kingdom
and angels are fluttering wings
in a heavenly dream.
Take a rest, old man,
for all these worries
are no good for your rank.
Sleep well!
What does it matter
that on the next morning
we'll be loveless
and waiting
and empty again.
The moon
is the face of a girl,
hurt by something,
by someone, somewhere.
The moon is always
very sad
and it's all mine
at full moon.
The moon is a girl,
chased away,
who started from here
in hot summer.
The moon is the face
of a girl.
A girl, just like me,
but a runaway one.
Blue mermaids with violet eyes
drift about in white windlessness.
Leading enchanted dreams
on sleepy meadows and moonlit woods.
Geum is shining in the dark,
a fiery flame in the black night;
it gives those in love will and power
and makes their poor hearts strong.
A DREAM
I dreamt a queer dream
in a quiet summer night.
It seams this was no dream,
but something real outside:
It was early at dawn,
in the earliest morning,
which was still asleep
on the shoulder of the sun.
I don't know what it was that made me
get up, go near to the window
and cast a stealthy look
at the silent street.
And then I saw her:
Majestic, fabulous,
three meters tall,
her hair falling gently to the ground.
She walked slowly and quietly,
holding flowers in her hands.
She was regal and fearful
and her face was so beautiful.
Her dress was long and dark,
of some reddish color
and she turned to me
carefully and tenderly.
She looked into my eyes
And peered into my heart.
She showed me all the dreams
that I would start to love.
She nodded lightly then
and started to the dawn,
but I would not awake,
I waited for my dream.
HOMELESS
We are all homeless
In our huge home
Since love is the only one giving us
shelter.
Because if you can't rest
your hand
on a true, gentle shoulder
with the saddest of yearning;
When you are not wanted and not
understood,
you wander alone day and night
in the streets.
When you have no thoughts,
when love is nowhere on this
or on the other land,
you are just homeless
and nothing else.
When you have no love -
you have no eyes either.
Don't rob me of my colors,
you, lying and declining celebrities,
since time and the winds
will pass you with indifference;
Whenever I think in blue, I see a night,
I see the eyes of sprouting love.
I see rain pouring down with blue power,
or I see lacerating sorrow.
Red is the color of the setting moon
With fiery horses racing in the darkness
And of the gentle rays of golden sunrise
When quiet passion's deep inside me;
Green forests, reaching up towards the sky
and orange warm sunflowers
rise up towards the sun, which
looks down at them shining and smiling…
Don't rob me of my colors,
you, lying and declining celebrities,
for each heartbeat measures
the growing indifference to you.
August 2000
A small and silly girl
lives within
the woman
that I am.
This girl has fair plaits
and charming eyes
and runs all day
in the green meadows...
She has one longing
in her heart
and it's: to love,
to love, to love...
Your hair smelled of snow
though it was summer in my garden.
Time flew away with a misleading pace
and swept away this moment.
The impossible love is much more beautiful,
it's a tender, unspread wing.
It's a violet and happy night,
something that has never been.
The impossible love does not know betrayal.
You love him and he loves you.
The impossible love is always great
and enwrapped in bright pink crape.
There aren't any bitter and black mornings,
There aren't evenings with a taste of wrath.
There is only truth and all the lies are true,
The impossible man is an alloy of gold.
And thanks god that it's impossible -
the impossible love,
so that the god blessed love
could be at least a bit possible.
There are flowers in blossom in my soul -
sprinkled on the moonlit meadows
and light butterfly wings,
roaming in emerald oceans.
My eyes are dreaming of a coast
amidst the sunlit clouds,
of horsemen in unceasing gallop
in heavenly fields, swayed by the wind.
My hands are flying up to you,
to meet you secretly in some unheard of dream,
so that in the farthest corner of the world
my reveries could meet you with a bow.
There are flowers in blossom in my soul,
lost somewhere on the moonlit meadows…
There are suns growing in my soul
that watch me tenderly - so warm and smiling.
Someone stole
my sun
together with the birds
up in the sky.
Will it wander long
in the dark -
my little light,
born by my heart?
A sorrowful white hand
stroked gently the sun.
The dark veil of night
blue sunsets set to fire.
Fires flash, die out
and flicker.
Smoke creeps
over stubble fields.
Ghostly bridges
show up in the sky -
roads of clouds
in impenetrable darkness.
The celestial people
are coming today.
First they'll land
on the bridge in the fog.
Then they'll turn into
a sparkling rainbow
in the dark-blue
of the sky.
I want to be as happy as
a shaggy sparrow.
I want to be as beautiful as
a heart in love.
I'll go picking herbs on Sunday in the early morning
and I'll undo my long plaits.
The skies will still be dark and sleepy
When I go looking for my own self in the green dew.
I wonder if I'll find it lost in fog,
the tiny emerald grain of my soul.
I wonder if I'll find it in the midst of treachery and lies
and if it will still shine brightly after so much sorrow.
I'll go picking herbs on Sunday in the early morning
to make a charm for happiness.