* * *
A falling star cuts through
Distances of inky color...
You reach out hands,
Impetuous fingers,
And overcome the neon cool...
With the spring breath
You turn it to a tear,
Which reflects your eyes.
1983
© Maya Kisyova
© Vessela Rangelova, translated
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© E-magazine LiterNet, 07.10.2006, ¹ 10 (83)