elders in white with long shadows—
the seagulls stride
and chat.
We don’t know their language.
But we listen.
The sea arrives as in a dream
and announces something dramatic.
We don’t know the languages
of the wind, of the sunset, of the stars.
But we listen.
As children
we played broken telephone.
Someone whispers words in your ear,
you try to decipher them
then whisper the message to someone else.
We don’t know the first word.
But we listen.
That’s how we create
parallel worlds.
–Vladimir Levchev,
translated from the Bulgarian
by Katerina Stoykova-Klemer
The Season of Delicate Hunger:
Anthology of Contemporary Bulgarian Poetry
(Accents Publishing)