By Yasen Vedrin
(Gold Coins in the Oak Chest)
If you cage my wandering fate in a narrow shell's trace —
I will stay by your side, never asking if bitterness lies.
Just to have your sweet breath — as a balm for my spirit so rough,
And those lookers enclosed in a quiet hope within your eyes.
With the darkened old tinder we’ll kindle a hearth for us two.
We will fill the cezve to simmer with magical weeds.
And along the tight paths of a memory, anxious and true,
Every ghost of the past will foretell us and speak of our deeds.
Unregretted bright spring will soon meet with the summer so hot.
Autumn will spread out for winter a mattress of leaves.
Our hair will turn white — like a silver flock's fortunate plot.
Our hands will keep whispering, just as a mouth loves and cleaves.
And the world, once a den, will become quite possible then.
That bright space up above the asleep mists within the maple tree.
If you cage my lone fate — cage it just as you love in your glen,
Embracing till pain... And you know that it hurts sweet and free.
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