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In memory of Roxie

 In memory of Roxie At the borderlands of Dewachen, the pure land of Buddha Amitabha, there is a peculiar stretch of land. It is reserved mainly for the dogs of people who practice the Dharma. There are predominantly dogs on that land, but exceptions occur. Occasionally, one could see the glimpse of some well-behaved cats, who keep themselves to themselves, and even a snake or two could be found, after the story of the White Snake came to be known. The dogs have some memories of their humans reciting sadhanas and prayers, they remember the mantras whispered in their fluffy ears; the memories of the smell of burning incense lingers on the tips of their noses; the taste of the tormas they somehow managed to snatch from the shrine still coats their tongs. All those conditions accumulated together produce the little dog paradise in which everything is as it should be in the world of dogs: The tennis balls are there for a chase whenever needed, and when they fly, they murmur softly...

Unpathetic Confession

 

UNPATHETIC CONFESSION



Before I kissed you

I wanted to tell you

who I was.

But I couldn’t 

because we kissed out of the sudden.

So now,

when the golden waves of your hair 

wash on me -

listen.

I hadn't been called in a long time

the best man in the world

I had forgotten how 

to be good.

My past

is the past of a romantic adolescent,

who danced on tables and roofs -

because there is nothing more boring

than the safety surface

of the dance floor.

I often fell

and lost my balance

due to excessive sincerity.

I grew up in train stations, restaurants and bus stops

and I dreamed

my dreams in hotels .

I have no permanent residence

neither I want to have one

because I fear the power of things,

the fixed horizon of the windows

and people with fixed horizons…

Whether I walked to the end of bare roads

whether I collected too little

or I wasted too much -

now I own nothing else

except myself

except the quiet desire

to give myself to the last atom.

If that's enough for you -

let the golden waves of your hair wash over me.


Stefan Tsanev








НЕПАТЕТИЧНА ИЗПОВЕД

Преди да те целуна,

исках да ти кажа

кой съм.

Но не успях,

защото се целунахме внезапно.

Затова сега,

когато ме залееш

със златните вълни на косите си -

изслушай ме.

Отдавна не бяха ме наричали

най-добрият човек на света

и аз бях забравил

да бъда добър.

Моето минало

е миналото на един романтичен юноша,

танцувал върху маси и покриви -

защото няма нищо по-скучно

от безопасната повърхност

на дансинга.

Често падах,

губех равновесие

от прекалена искреност.

Аз отраснах по гари, ресторанти и автостанции

и в хотели сънувах

своите сънища.

Нямам постоянно местожителство

и не искам да имам,

защото се плаша от властта на вещите,

от неподвижния хоризонт на прозореца

и от хората с неподвижни хоризонти…

Пусти пътища ли извървях,

малко ли събрах,

или пък много разпилях -

но сега не притежавам нищо друго

освен себе си,

освен тихото желание

да се раздам до последния атом.

Ако това ти е достатъчно -

залей ме

със златните вълни на косите си.

 




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