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!

A LACE OF FULFILLED DREAMS

By Yasen Vedrin

(The Vine of Engadi)

“Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet,

and thy speech is comely...”

(Song of Solomon 4:3)

When hearing how your voice begins to weave

The delicate, fine lace of dreams made true,

My heart grows quiet, waiting for relief,

Not asking if wingless it can fly to you.

An unearthly dream uplifts it to the skies,

While in your lips the wind begins to spin.

You fill me up, yet more I want to rise.

I do not ask – when or where we shall begin...

Among the evening clouds within the setting light,

Your waiting voice will fall into a rest,

And feeling, like a burning fire in the night,

Will weave us in one lace upon your chest.

CAPTIVATE ME, O LOVE!

By Yasen Vedrin

(The Vine of Engadi)

“Turn away thine eyes from me,

for they have overcome me...”

(Song of Solomon 6:5)

In the snow-white-dyed ropes o’er an abyss,

My long gaze is transfixed on your face.

If I look to the side – I will vanish,

Like a smoke scattered out with no trace.

Let me pass into you, drawn and driven.

Past your eyes. In the wild captive storm.

Where alone in its beauty is given

The bright spring of green longing so warm.

Where the birds in their flight keep arriving,

And the world like a harp starts to ring...

Having conquered me, saving and striving –

Captivate me, O love, like a king...

LET THERE BE DOVES UPON YOUR FAIRY FACE

By Yasen Vedrin

(The Vine of Engadi)

“Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, 

thou art fair; thou hast doves' eyes...”

(Song of Solomon 1:15)

I would not find a color in the bow

To capture in a stroke your shining face.

Through your sweet eyes, where beautiful things grow,

The doves will make a white and boundless space.

The wondrous poetry will softly coo.

A heavenly ray upon your lids will bide.

And in your gaze a break will shine for you,

Prepared to gather all my calls inside.

And in the flash, when visible and clear

You capture me, a whisper I will trace:

Let there be doves, so innocent and dear,

And let me fly with them in happy grace.

THE TENDERNESS WITH FLOWING MANES

By Yasen Vedrin

(The Vine of Engadi)

“I have compared thee, O my love,

to a company of horses in Pharaoh's chariots...”

(Song of Solomon 1:9)

A craved-for sound of clicking horseshoes’ stride.

Bright fairy horses fly into the sky.

My lonely voice just asked into the tide:

“Do you love me? Even a little, try...”

And as if tenderness, with flowing manes,

Gathered wild winds throughout its racing flight.

While our emotions – playful in our veins –

Shone with the sunrise of a morning bright.

Our hearts were sparking from the horseshoes' beat.

And that loud thud – that all the world must throb,

When with our lips, prepared the flash to meet,

Within a single kiss my soul you rob.

WHY DO I REMEMBER YOU?

By Yasen Vedrin

(Unfaded Memories)

Why does my heaven remember you this way?

You, who gave sunrises to the sunsets’ light.

Were you a crimson rose with drops of spray,

Or just a soul, with tears unconcealed from sight?

Why does the marble inside me hold your trace?

Through rough, coarse touch – so tender and so white.

Will the sharp chisel of unshared desire's space

Sculpture your form just for a parting night?

Why does my sacred dome remember you inside –

Beyond the altar your image to torment?

Are you a cross of love, unknown and wide,

Ready to crucify me when the veil is rent...

Why do I remember you – a craved-for spring,

Jealously guarded in late jugs of my own?

A beautiful love is a last dreaming thing.

Even if I forget you – it remembers you alone.

A CANVAS OF REMEMBRANCE

By Yasen Vedrin

(Unfaded Memories)

I would not hold the world inside my chest.

A single call from you suffices there.

And that cold snow upon my hair compressed

Will melt into a skylark's wings in air.

And both our palms will turn to nests again,

Where breath will gently spread our dreams of grace –

Those lucid, tiny drops of summer rain,

Longed for from borders whispered in this place.

The moment will be only you and me –

For time itself, within our eyes confined.

For just a day, from its rotation free,

The harsh, relentless spindle will unwind.

To recall each other – in meaning and in trace.

And in the tone of an unfinished song.

To watch how beautiful past days of grace

Return to senses where they both belong.

Beside my shoulder gently rest your head –

Our moment will create eternity, so true,

Since threads of purest blue have long been spread

Into a canvas of remembrance spun for you...

PASTORAL

By Yasen Vedrin

(Unfaded Memories)

I can become a soft rug for your feet

With gentle scent that clover fields impart.

An evening longing we can share and meet –

A wonder underneath the vines, apart.

I can become a warmth for you tonight –

A burning fire, built close beside the wall.

While the pale moon whispers with its light

Through leaves of plane trees rising grand and tall.

I can become a cricket in the land.

A little firefly on your palm to gleam.

A boy and girl, in love and hand in hand,

Bathing at night into the flowing stream.

I can become eternity for you,

With the warm shade of an old roofing tile.

Just grant me joy that is forever true,

And tell me not to leave you all the while...

A NECKLACE

By Yasen Vedrin

(Unfaded Memories)

My memories – like sun-drenched beads inside,

Who arranged them into a necklace clear?

Maybe my own pure hope, acting as guide,

That everything is living from yesteryear...

That blooming all across my meadows, pass

Bright dandelions in a buzzing swarm.

As if my dreams were scattered on the grass,

The trembling sign of fate, so soft and warm.

Who painted my whole world, and in what way,

With so many beautiful, bright shades?

That happiness seems like a dream to stay,

As if a wondrous fairy calls through glades.

To make the miracles come true and rise

With her magic wand. Tales whispered at dawn.

To make the dew burn with a lover's eyes...

Even inside the tears to burn along.

I feel so cold. Let me get warm inside.

The necklace burns. It trembles on my skin.

The fairy leaves. I’m speechless in the tide,

Wishing she'd whisper blessings from within.

So that the time won't backward take its flight.

So past summers return to where they start.

To untangle all memories in the night –

This necklace, love, worn deep inside my heart...

LEGEND OF THE MOONLIT PATH

By Yasen Vedrin

(A Motley Palette)

A legend whispered from a shell to me

About the moonbeams born of love and light.

A tale so innocent, so pure and free,

That I am ready to whisper it in rhyme tonight.

In ancient times, the sea was wild and grim,

With rolling waves that brought out death and fear.

Its waters could not shine, its view was dim,

And darkness swallowed all its days and cheer.

But rumors started of a magic spell.

A heavy curse that came from greed of old.

The sea would calm down, if it found to dwell

A single sign of love, more pure than gold.

Pirates and sailors didn't trust a word

Of what was whispered even by the gale,

Yet still in barrels, away from being heard,

They piled up the metal, bright and pale.

But look – upon a ship by chance delayed,

A traveler climbed, so humble, quiet, and meek.

Despaired by heavy life and choices made,

He chose an unconquered shore to look and seek.

He was not rich. He only held inside

A red notebook with verses good and grand.

A little bag across his shoulder tied,

And for the ticket – all the coins in hand.

Thus sailed the ship amidst the heavy tide,

The blowing wind had filled the canvas white.

The heavy clouds began the stars to hide,

And ocean shadows grabbed it in the night.

And look, the sea began to roar and swell.

The curse was lurking, hidden everywhere.

With heavy waves inside the rooms it fell,

And struck the helpless poet with despair.

“The life is done!” – the man had softly said –

“I found no love! Good luck was never mine!

If I am meant to drown – let waves ahead

Cover me up, I am accursed this time!”

The sailors drowned and vanished without trace,

Drunk from the heavy grog they liked to sip.

The poet sighed his final tear of grace,

And leaped into the dark waves from the ship.

A magic spell it was or just a song,

But at the bottom he beheld a maid.

An angel-face, a messenger so strong,

Deep in the cold and fearsome depths displayed.

With her own hands she lifted him above,

And looked at him with fairy, dreaming eyes.

He could not speak a single word of love,

Except to watch in silence and surprise.

His life returned, not lost into the deep.

He breathed again upon a lonely strand.

Looked at the mermaid, falling in love so deep.

Her face – a moon in darkness of the land.

He gave the book and told her, soft and low:

“My only savior, you are all I see!

The waters drowned the others long ago.

Take in return the dreams that live in me!

My heart is there, in gentle words displayed!

And every joy I didn't live to view!

I’d follow you in waters with no shade,

And in this flash, I vow myself to you!”

The ocean and its waves grew calm and still.

Amidst the clouds, the moon began to rise.

A magic beam shot down with all its will

Into the stranger’s and the woman’s eyes.

They touched their hands, so softly, on the crest,

They started walking o’er the ocean floor…

The moonlit path reminds us of the best –

A beautiful love, a miracle from before.

Come you as well into the story blue.

A poet waits for you and grieves inside.

Whispered by ancient shells, the legend's true...

Perhaps it is! Along the rising tide.

MUSIC FOR TWO

By Yasen Vedrin

(A Motley Palette)

When you whisper softly to me: Stay! –

Then everything in us will feel brand new.

The wide expanse with music then will play

With pre-classic and romantic melodies too.

The music score will take its flight with wings

And call us to the clouds that drift above.

The bow will turn into an arrow that springs.

The violin – into a heart pouring with love.

The flute’s enchanting and delightful sound

Will be a stream of water from the spout.

The piano – a soft roof-drop on the ground,

So quiet, to hear your whisper speak out.

The guitar with its gentle, ringing chime

Will quickly turn into a birdhouse, small.

To wake us from our sleep at morning time,

And shed a ray of light upon our curls and all.

It will be a wondrous, fairy moment, true,

When you whisper to me that I must remain...

Because the love is a conductor for you,

And music – always for a pair, in the rain...

HERBARIUM

By Yasen Vedrin

(A Motley Palette)

Inside my poor soul a herbarium of leaves

Reminds me of you with its colorful spaces.

The breath of the spring in your sweet smile achieves,

And you fold my heart in your summer embraces.

With small, gentle bundles of soft, glowing light,

The riddles are painted right into my keeping.

The leaves are now born. Memories of days, bright –

So endlessly tender, so fast and so fleeting.

The collection of leaves – heavy with love's art,

One after another its pages discloses.

And each recollection – like scrolls in the heart –

Into a wild fire within my eyes closes.

And how can I say that you aren't by my side,

When each single shade but completes your emotion?

If I were the Earth – by your leaves caught and tied,

I’d make a bright spring start to grow into motion...

If I were the Sky – with south winds I’d descend

To be a warm summer in palms that are slender.

And thousands of leaves once again would contend

In this fair herbarium of love, pure and tender.

My soul is completely filled up with each leaf.

A single tear gleams. No, I will not be crying...

I'm happy that even in eternity’s brief,

I’ll find you right there, if my gaze keeps on trying...

A MOTLEY PALETTE

By Yasen Vedrin

(A Motley Palette)

I grew so used to watching through your eyes –

Deep down, to where your very heart would stay.

I captured all the mornings that would rise

And caressed sunsets at the end of day.

I felt you – burning hot, and filled with rain.

I touched the atmospheres where dreams would start.

I took you – innocent, and blamed with pain.

I envisioned you – with traits, and lines apart.

I loved you – transparent, and wrapped in haze.

I warmed you up amidst the snow and gale.

I dreamed of you – in sad and happy days,

With joys and shadows of a fearful tale.

I thirsted for you – blooming, green and white.

I vowed you to my manly, secret gleam.

I shielded you from autumn’s yellow blight.

I drank you up – both sober and in dream.

You have become my motley palette, true,

Within your shades I found your form and sign.

I grew so used to looking straight at you

And turning all my thoughts into a line.

I fly with you when morning light expands,

And in the sunset fall asleep, inside.

Satiated with love... Yet through the lands

Unsatisfied I wake in you – you in my tide.