OCHRID

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Summer was fading away with lingering violet bells -
Sound after sound from invisible churches
Through the long town we walked dizzy and in sweat,
Neither alive, nor dead.

We were hungry, the dusty street dreadfully resounded
The early evening air struck by you
And we stopped at the bridge and straight towards us
There appeared a funeral.

They shuffled by with empty faces, shivering in the broiling heat,
They passed by then quietly vanished behind the corner
And we were left, breathing heavy and strenuous,
Strangers once again.

And heaven threw about accurate cast-iron blows
Over us, over our shoddy heresies
And there we stood overwhelmed, exhausted by the miracle,
With no faith in it nor ourselves.

© Georgi Roupchev
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© E-magazine LiterNet, 09.01.2004, № 1 (50)