TURNED PAGES

By Yasen Vedrin

(Fireflies in the Palm)

We turned all the pages that stood as our last.

We were folded by cold and by sharp loneliness.

For its shadows we were but two strangers who passed,

Lost completely in night’s heavy gloom and distress...

We dreamed of each other, tied fast in our fates.

We painted each other in watercolor, bright.

Satiated never, we drank of those traits.

We wandered through limits, seeking bounds in the night.

We revealed all ourselves in sad truths that were cast.

We shared all our secrets aloud from the heart.

We smiled, internally cleansed at the last.

We opened our doorways for us from the start.

We longed for each other in feverish craze.

We kissed one another in lines soft and clear.

We grew jealous, suffering from words in a daze.

We wounded ourselves out of sad, heavy fear.

We turned all the pages that stood as our last.

We closed ourselves down without being at all...

Unwalked boundaries remained from the days of the past,

And a grief that will bring a sharp pain like a wall...

UNREACHABLE

By Yasen Vedrin

(Fireflies in the Palm)

Through some stubborn and persistent hope inside,

The kind of which is never found in me,

I discover you, though you remain and hide,

I envision you, though blinded I may be.

I touch your hand, although I am so far.

I fold you inside moments left alone.

A verse is lit, where all my heartbeats are,

Ready from ashes to build dreams unknown.

At least through them you’re living and you stay.

Accessible in pulse. Caressed in sleep.

Though with no ray or prospect on the way.

Although I am with you. And yet can't keep.

Sometimes even a mere image or view

Sculptures from marble beauty and its trace.

The statue stays like calls, forever true,

Born in a white-stone mouth inside this place.

They do not breathe, yet they are burning hot.

They say no words, and yet the verses turn.

I feel you. But you feel me not on spot.

I paint you with charcoal and sparks that burn.

I reach you, still unreachable and far.

I chase your soul, just like a star ahead.

Although I have you not, you are my star.

Traceless you are, but in me traces tread.

And in this line my soul I will disclose,

Even if left unread by your own breath.

I stay a breeze that loves the storm it knows,

A valley, by a mountain peak faced with death.

THE UGLY DUCKLING

By Yasen Vedrin

(Fireflies in the Palm)

Tonight I invite you to visit my space.

I’m pouring some wine. The candle flames light.

For things that are simple, with mystical grace –

I warm frozen dreams in the dark of the night.

I know that the doorway will not creak or slide,

Nor will any doorbell startle me blue.

You’ll come, but somehow from heaven outside –

Like a fairy from palaces, shining and true.

Like a sharp, painful ache of my madness inside,

Like a soft, gentle whisper of my crying tone,

Like a moment of hard-suffered wonder and guide,

That you fall in love with the look left alone.

You will come, and I will be tender and clear –

Revealing each thought and emotion within.

That beautiful swan, snowy-white and so dear,

Who once an ugly duckling had been.

That ultimate meaning that all things so bright

Require their time for a blooming address...

I drink of this wine, bitter-sweet in the night.

I wait for you, frozen in icy distress!

You do not come, even from heavens above!

No fairy from palaces shines through the shade!

And the cold glass of windows, forgotten by love,

Grows foggy from snow-powder falling displayed.

Tonight I invite you to visit my space...

An empty, cold glass. The candle burns low.

An ugly duckling with questions to face,

And an unfulfilled wonder in night’s heavy glow…

A SPECK WITHIN THE EYE

By Yasen Vedrin

(Fireflies in the Palm)

If only this bright day could be a charm

And miracles would happen with no boundaries,

I would shrink down at once, safe from all harm –

Into the silken space your hair surrounds.

Bound tightly with a single hair around my waist,

I would descend down to your eyes so kind.

And after that I’d look, but late in haste, –

At what you hid from me within your mind.

You speak about a speck within your eye...

But tell me, is there truly such a part?

Should I become a Gulliver, to try,

Because a tear of secrets weights your heart?

That secret, filled with full impossibility,

In which even a single touch brings pain.

When everything grows complex with fragility,

And there's no meaning in the words "if" or "again".

That secret – meaning, all the kindness told,

Which never opens love or unlocks the gate.

Which passes by, untoward and so cold,

With all the craved-for things denied by fate...

I understand! We drift apart, we two!

A tiny speck within the eye divides.

And yet the day could be a magic view,

Where rains of miracles pour down from all the sides!