Блог

translated by Mayre Buyuklieva   i saw a beggar who was drawing and didn’t pretend to be selling the drawings there was no pathetic pose please […]

translated by Aliona Tabunshchyk   evening mist presses against my window it whimpers knocking on the glass it asks to be let in just for a […]

translated by Teodora Atanasova   fado is the sound of a string the moment before it breaks the last hand-waving from the curve in the road […]

Translated by Mladen Georgiev   A nuclear graveyard blossoms under my feet.   in the hasty branches I smell the spring and a titmouse.   Compressed […]