* * *
A closed circle.
A mirror...
A stage...
A scaffold...
Dust on my fingers -
Dust of memories,
Rusty
truths.
Drops of water press to get through the window-pane.
A cold kiss
And the dusty truths turned to
Mud.
No time to fear -
The circle is closed.
1985
© Maya Kisyova
© Vessela Rangelova, translated
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© E-magazine LiterNet, 07.10.2006, ¹ 10 (83)