Rositsa Yakimova
Sofia, Bulgarie
Black tulip
in the garden
of the widow.
Alongside the
vegetables -
marigolds.
Together they blossom.
From the incense
stick
Fragrance of rose -
A path to the temple.
A rosebush
At the monastery – two times
Reduced to ashes.
To my dry bed
wet noise of raindrops
over yellow leaves.
Dots
of our words -
rainfall for third day.
Autumn sun.
Golden apple
amidst red branches.
The mountain
also sets out
in the misty morning.
The wind is who
pleats the skirt of the sea –
sometimes.
Roadside pub
-
a cat washes the dishes
tax-free.
April rainbow
over the buildings.
Saints my neighbours.
Naked branches.
Empty nests.
Together waiting.
Christmas night
–
even on the daddy’s grave
apples.
Mountain hut
–
through the chimney
the day goes out.
Snow in April
–
what has forgetten
the snowman?
To my dry bed
Wet noise of raindrops
Reaches.
Only the leaves
in the paddle the wind couldn’t
blow away.
Three chestnuts-trees
in blossom
in front of my home.
In the room a candlestick burns.
July haze.
The dog lies at the feet
of the shadow.
A broken crossroad
light.
The whole night over it
yellow moon.
The leaf leaves
its home –
first school day.
I record the
first day
of the new year
in the old diary.