Public Republic

Kerana Angelova

Photo: Oliver Jules

In the backpack she arranges
a book with poems by Debelianov
between its pages
a dry orange sun
from a marigold
a broken photograph from childhood
in sepia tone
instead of a face a circle of light
halo of untidy thin hair
like a bundle of bindweed

folds a yellowed obituary
mom is the sky really
that very far

finally slowly
slowly finally
slowly drops the curtains
ties the shoelaces

in a knot

slings the backpack
and goes
bearing on her back
her small silent homeland

Translated from Bulgarian by Katerina Stoykova-Klemer