(The night is flexible)

The night is flexible
the quiet willow
over a lake

traveling

somewhere.

poem by Bozhidar Pangelov
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Jammapada

as a child
I take a look

this world
a luminous bubble
swept by winds
fades

the morning of rains

poem by Bozhidar Pangelov
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(With its death)

With its death
the day gilds
the leaves.
I do not know the names of
the tree
and it doesn’t matter for
beauty.

poem by Bozhidar Pangelov
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No matter

Long are the streets
and go somewhere
not like your
fingers
tenderly
in my hand

and no matter it rains
no matter it does.

poem by Bozhidar Pangelov
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Here is

Here

the rain.

Here

The palms.

Here

a bit

of rain.

Everything’s

moving,

here.

[...] Read more

poem by Bozhidar Pangelov
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Presences

Some affirm

tropics are sad
as well as railway stations.
Believe.
Т he choice is for
all those who passed by

And for a Communion
(with
a rose)

poem by Bozhidar Pangelov
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Time Is an Idea

Time is an idea of the over-ripe mind
The sky bent dries the earth
Did you achieve anything more than

Pain

Wreath for the eyes

Rumble

Ghostly reflection left of
“Us”

poem by Bozhidar Pangelov
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Walking on the radiance

I'm twisting
like
a shaft of silver reeds
for the sunrise on the waves
for the sunset on the waves
and as Ra's boat
I'm crossing you

at the other side
after the deceased
scattered

poem by Bozhidar Pangelov
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The green snake

A splendid vase –
the setting sun rotates
in redness of the skies.
Oh! Of happiness I dream!
My tiny planet I’ll treasure up
(for ages just a flower of earth
a rose used to be) .
I am setting off …
The green snake’s love
is sincere only –
to the end!

poem by Bozhidar Pangelov
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The Girl with the Cherries

The girl
who used to open
the markets
and lock the day.
The girl with the cherries
is flying away…
And they soared
like rainbows.
The traders' faces
stretched.
The passers by
sank their hearts.
And somebody
smiled,
gathered the pastels
and went on.

poem by Bozhidar Pangelov
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