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February 25, 2010 by · No comments

Roumen Leonidov

Photo: Anosmia

Because my straitjacket armor was a bit too short
they shod me in a pair of knights’ boots,
they pulled a helmet over my eyes, my hands
they chopped off, just in case.
And because it’s only knights I’ve met since then,
I rush to handshake them,
rush to handshake them,
rush to handshake them.
And sometimes I survive.

Translated from Bulgarian by Kristin Dimitrova

Categories: Frontpage · poetry


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