Ode to Bulgaria
October 18th, 2008 by AdminO Bulgaria Bulgaria
I have seen your women
Carrying livestock on their backs,
I have stuffed cotton into my ears
To silence the lamb’s last cry!
O Bulgaria Bulgaria
O bitter rain clouds that fall on our roofless homes and wash
The dishes for us
Are your gypsies still alive?
Your black-haired, pink-cheeked, never-understood gypsies?
Did little Demir and his drowned body
Ever come back to look for me?
For a warm jacket and boots
To wear in the freezing water?
O I miss him
Tell him that I miss him
O Bulgaria
A lion jumping over the iron woods
Is coming in my night dreams
Asking me to stop being a child
Pressing my wrists tightly
Making me run barefooted
In the painting of a foreign artist
O Bulgaria Bulgaria
A hundred-year-flower sprouted up
At the spot where my crown bled!
The River Danube is carrying
Leaves from the willow that
Many of my ancestors are buried under
O thief of apricots
O hungry soldier
Who opened the door for you?
Two hands can cause
1,000 years of war
But also sew a flag
O piggy bank full of clothing pins
Instead of money
O picture frame empty as the wine barrel
My uncle slept in all night long
O Bulgaria Bulgaria
I was born into a world
Some may never understand
A world not European not Turkish
Not African
Where your mistakes
Are slapped on the hand
But you cannot see who did it
A world where your rewards
Are measured in small golden
Certificates, each one saying I love you
O Bulgaria Bulgaria O my Bulgaria
Wipe off your face
Because I’m coming back!
– Indiana Pehlivanova
This poem is featured in the exhibition This Place Called Poetry.
