(BG)

 

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The Gallery Of The Heart


Me and a mate

Lugging sculptures in the rain.

The signs of failure are ever clearer,

The calls of age disturb our pace,

Fortuity lies heavy on our backs.

Yet beauty grows with each and every day,

The forest ice inches under the skin,

The only sound around is my own sliding down,

Yet beauty grows.

 


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© 2002Marin Bodakov. All rights reserved!

Translated from Bulgarian by Zornitsa Hristova © 2002. All rights reserved!


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