Now bloodless and almost fleshless
unmoving , unbreathing, voiceless.
With eyes half closed and sunken,
what matter if -Anna or Maria,
the fine lids will never rise,
the clenched lips will not move or ever
again utter a moan or sigh.
And look how already white and strange is
that ring upon her hands, crossed forever.
But do you hear her innocent child
crying in a cradle nearby.
There is her immortal blood, transferred
and her soul now resident in this world.
days will pass by, years, centuries
and the yielded lips of two young lovers
will again whisper ‘Anna’ or ‘Maria’,
at night amidst the fragrance of spring.
The great-granddaughter will bear everything: name,
eyes, lips, locks of the other invisible one.
Selected Poems of Elisaveta Bagryana; Penelope of the Twentieth Century
Trans, Brenda walker, Valentine Borrisov and Belin Tonchev. Forest Books.
For Sinead with the Rainbows in her eyes, RIP