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And so without laboratories,
and so without conservatories,
and so without observatories,
the small town sighs in the afternoon;
pears drop down through people's dreams
and the town clock is struck dumb at
ten to five like a calf gaping
at the men in bloodstained aprons.
The mosque was once the tallest building here,
later the church gained advantage in
walling off the air
for higher purposes.
But there is no proud
tower and the languages
are already divided
more or less.
Two girls are coming from the baker's,
picking at the bread crust.
And then at night - the glow of TV screens,
curtains to keep out the darkness
and two-story plans for the future.
The stars, gone feral in packs,
creep silently down,
© Kristin Dimitrova
© Kristin Dimitrova, translated from bulgarian
© E-magazine LiterNet, 12.07.2008, № 7 (104)
Kristin Dimitrova. My Life in Squares. Middlesbrough: Smokestack Books, 2010.