Public Republic

Bozhana Apostolova

Photo: Just SallyRye

Am I alive?
I asked my body,
which,
having grown bigger with the years,
felt in its bones the most delicious feast
of worms digging through the earth.

Am I alive?
I asked my heart.
(To make it hear me,
I knocked with fingers somewhere on my left side.)
The root was there.
Meanwhile, the boughs barely held the fruit –
good nourishment for kids
set out on their road upwards.

Am I alive?
I asked my soul.
And she, a broken-down widow,
drenched to the bone with tears,
stood on tiptoes –
hoping to peep into the other life.…

However, bolted, the door to it
kept silent.

Translated from Bulgarian by Valentin Krustev and Donna Martell