Public Republic

Dimana Ivanova

Translated from Bulgarian to English by Katerina Stoykova-Klemer

Photo: wili

I want to weave you in my hair,
pack you in my skin,
slip you on my finger,
like a wound from a wedding ring.
I’d like Vltava to dry up
or utterly exhaust its waters
under the boat of our desires,
and night time colorful dreams to predict
the landscapes of each of our futures.
I’d like to dress you in my colors
like a leaf in Muha’s palette,
and my lips each night to draw
on the papyrus of your beautiful body
well-tempered scores
from Dvořák’s music notebook.
I want to see you bowing
in the onslaught of melancholy,
in your short, ribbed skirt
from the rails of London Bridge.
Wind me in your hugs
as in a hammock there is no getting out of!…
I’d like to see how the sky dances
above our loving swing.