Translated by Vesela Koeva

What kind of soup did my father love as a child,

did he finish his food,

what did he hide under the big pillow,

which was the word he fell asleep on,

did he get really scared by the bombings.

I will never learn this,

my homeland is irretrievably lost.

The air is so lonely,

that I hear clearly the timetable of the bus station

and the siren of the harbor embraces me.