PAVLINA PAVLOVA

Pavlina Pavlova has graduated from the Institute of national and World Economy, Sofia. She is the author of 23 poetry collections, most of which are a part of the funds of the biggest world's libraries. She is a laureate of many literary awards for radio journalism, , poetry, a national award for a novel for children (1989) and of some European awards for poetry after 1995 bestowed on her by the Center for European culture "Aldo Moro" (Italy) under the auspices of the Council of Europe. She is member of the Union of the Bulgarian Writers, and of the Union of the Bulgarian Journalists.

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COMMENSURABILITY

What does a sparrow need
               to be happy?
               A crumb to eat,
               A twig to sway on…

What does a man need
               to be happy?
               A woman to love,
               a flower - to give to the woman.

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LIKE ASHES OF ROSE

God, I don't want to get old.
     But how can it be if the ones who died
     early remain forever young?

If I want to live long,
     I'll have to put up with
     The wrinkles,
     and the white hair,
     with pains and aches,
     with slackness…

But I will never become reconciled
If ashes remain from the flame
of the fiery feelings
     even if they were ashes
          of a rose….

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REFLECTION

Nothing is real in the cities.
     Smell the flowers -
     they smell of perfume
     or of lubricants and petrol.
Listen to the wind - it meanders, exhausted,
     colliding with walls and windows.
Look at the stars - they look like buttons
     sewn to a faded garment.
If you hear a bird sing, do not believe it is a real one.
     A bird sings only in the open sky.

That is what my city is like.
I wonder why I love it.

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GENERATION

First, we proudly walk
          our children.
Then something happened…

Now, instead of grandchildren
          We walk dogs.

I cannot sleep any more -
          With a bleeding heart
          Crucified
          On my Golgotha
          By one sole question:
          Where did we make a mistake?

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THE NEST

I tried to outrun the wind,
But I failed.
I tried to peek into the eyes of the Sun.
It turned out this was impossible.
I tried to turn the moon into a little barge for two.
But you went away.
Now, abandoned by the wind, by the Sun, by the Moon,
     By you,
I ask myself: did I preserve this tiny
     Mellifluous bird
That had made her nest in my heart?