THREE POEMS ABOUT MY FATHER

web | Bravado

I.

My father loved to drink,
his last glass filled
by the wine-red sunset.
He drank it 'bottom up!'
Then he and the Sun,
hugged each other,
and headed somewhere...

A FOREST OF CANDLES

II.

What an abundance of wax!
The last breath goes somewhere up...
Perhaps
in the cosmos of non-existence.
Only a thin fiber cord is left,
thin, and invisible -
on it came
a black butterfly,
perked so calmly
on our front door.
The leaves shedding is over.
A smell of decomposition
is creeping from the garden.
From now on the memory and mom
will be the same thing.

Always waiting for my letters
till all three of us dissolve in time...
But you, my friend,
don't rush to wave us away.

Though the gate had rotted with age -
and only the scars of my pocket-knife
can be decoded,
the butterfly is free...
I bet you a million,
you’ll never guess
where it will end up
in the time to come.

BARLEY*

To my father

Ill.

The barley is cooked.
There is no life in it any longer.
Time stops for the barley.
The flickering wax candles
are burning down slowly...
Am I hearing a song,
or a song in me is dying.

© Maxim Maximov
© Bojidara Pavlova, translated from Bulgarian
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© LiterNet Publishing House, 23.02.2021
Maxim Maximov. Bravado. Varna: LiterNet, 2021

Other publications:
Maxim Maximov. Bravado. Los Angeles: Triumvirate Publications, 1999.