I hear how leaves are falling:
autumnal days of sorrow . . .
Someone’s bound for heaven–
the church bell’s tolling.
Like a moan for help, it’s fading
blown away into the distance . . .
Autumn days, the falling leaves,
the church bell’s tolling.
translated by Christopher Buxton
Mara Belcheva
Snowdrop by Mara Belcheva
A snowdrop plucked for me
a gift of love from him,
the first of all to leave
through the gates of spring.
Come and teach my soul
how too to blossom in snow
and to pull out from the soil
the teardrops love lets go.
translated by Christopher Buxton