Between two worlds
Translated — a poem, an explanation of life
Above two different worlds, I cast divided shadow:
the one I first took root in, but where I live no longer
the other — where I live, but where I don’t belong.
Memories of the first one, driven out by dreams
waylay and assault me from behind a scent, a sunset,
and fill me with nostalgia, fill me so it hurts.
In the other one I tidy branches, shoots and twigs,
shyly stretching roots and feeling out the soil
tentatively, slowly, before my buds unfold.
The bare and broken branches weep desolately in me,
so many old wounds roughen the bark — once smooth and tender,
healed in haste, uncared for. Healed all alone.
I try to link my worlds and merge them into one.
To grasp the second one and tell the first about it,
to keep my roots in there and feel I still belong.
But they are way too different — lands apart and oceans.
The seasons are unlike, the birds, the songs, the weather,
the clouds, the wind, the sun. The light. The air I breathe...
…
Above two different worlds I’ve stretched my green-leafed branches.
Growing bold and strong in this memory-less forest
of people just like me — the trees that have no roots.
For years I’ve tried to translate this poem. Между два свята is also the title of my Bulgarian blog, which re-kindled my love for writing. Finally, the poem is shared between my languages — telling to my second world about the first one, and making new sense to me.
Thank you for reading.
You've really captured the rootlessness of the diaspora. Thank you Ronnie. You are a treasure and we're lucky to have you in our country at the end of the earth.
Lovely!