/Поглед.инфо/
Hate again…
And what kind.
For what time?
With the burning of portraits and a push for lynching…
And the vast majority of the people are silent and watch seir. Or it just doesn’t affect him. And we are so few and we are decreasing every day. My dear brothers, Bulgarians, we will destroy ourselves by fomenting this hatred among ourselves.
Once upon a time, as if yesterday, I wrote a poem… Here it is…
LOVE
The time of hatred has come.
Oh my God! I’m not ready.
And everything is difficult to pronounce
that word love.
Love – crumpled banknote
in the pocket of memory,
salable – as life
and honest as death.
I wear it like a hump,
heavier than the cross of Christ.
She is thirsty, hungry, naked, barefoot.
She – holy sinner love.
Love – a single note
of being in the song.
More fantastic than life
and more banal than death.
The time of hatred has come.
Oh my God! I’m not ready.
But help me to save
unhappy atom of love.
Love – the last Calvary,
the salvation of the world.
Love is shorter than life
love – longer than death.
1996
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