Dostena Anguelova: Two Poems (translation by Holly Karapetkova)
the sky—a womb stung / by countless golden bees.
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the sky—a womb stung / by countless golden bees.
We were almost back to normal
Strange shadows are everywhere / and everywhere there are traps.
drones are dead by win- / ter. workers / never / finish.
“So much of the world / holds itself at a distance”
“lost / in the field / waiting / for human life / to reenter”
I could always hold the longest underwater
“And soon enough / there you are, your face by Picasso, your body by Giacometti / or Renoir, walking into a room that has been waiting for you”
“she tells you to stuff a live parakeet in your mouth”
What is the love that can follow this word?