You all are leaving,
and its putting me in a state of grieving,
I guess I'm scared of this strange change,
paired with knowing life is never going to be the same,
it's kind of a shame,
however I want us all to do good in this life,
and than can only happen,
with our feet pressing on,
and our faith maintaining to be strong,
so that we can meet on the plains of tomorrow,
where we can smile and greet,
and accept that life is bittersweet.

we lost you in April
during the rains
it was as if the sky was grieving
we lost you right before the blooms
that awake during the crisp morning
we lost you, and it is April again
they speak to you now in silence
and in memory
we lost you…yes
maybe physically
but, I see you during the spring
where life is full and lush
I see you in the cardinals  
they fly free in ribbons of gold
this is where I see you
among blue hydrangeas

Sunflowers are filled with stories
and power that no individual discusses.
Therefore no one understand why
I love them so much.

Reminding me of early morning sunrises.
The moment when the sun is just
above the trees. With a hue so bright,
they instill happiness into my soul.
Growing so tall they could reach God,
they cannot get enough of His love.
They will never stop trying to reunite
with their Creator because no one
loves them like He.
Representing the incarnation of Clytie
over the loss of Apollo. They say
the grieving of his absence brought her
into her next life and now she only
faces the sun, waiting for his return.

I saw them as my sunshine.
Their rays giving my spirit a new life.
My source of nourishment, they were.
Restoring my soul of the negativity
I came across. The Apollo to my Clytie.
I stood by for their return with hopes of
their absence being make believe,
knowing that they would never come again.

According to most men,
I already ask for too much.
With efforts unnoticed and
potential overlooked, I knew
I was never appreciated enough
to receive flowers.
*53114

The light toy-railway is traveling,
with the kids who aren’t anymore.
To Paris, to Brussels is traveling,
to the Black Africa too.
The light toy-railway is grieving,
for the fawn’s steps under Christmas tree,
for the luster in the eyes and
ah, for the toys.
For the Blue Bird, for the white photos,
for the hand that is putting the little star.
For the dream that’s coming true.

The light toy-railway is traveling.
Traveling.

The original:

Светлото влакче

Светлото влакче пътува,
с децата, които вече не са.
За Париж, Брюксел пътува,
за черната Африка.
Светлото влакче тъгува,
за стъпките на еленчето под елхата,
за блясъка във очите и
ах, за играчките.
За Синята птица, за белите снимки,
за ръката, която поставя звездичка.
За съня, който се сбъдва.

Пътува светлото влакче.
Пътува.


Translator Bulgarian-English: Vessislava Savova
rarebird
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