Tzotcho Boyajiev
& Tom Phillips (translated from Bulgarian)
Two Poems
Елегия
Мила моя, аз отново съм в Рим и отново съм пред Фонтана
ди Треви. Слънцето всеки миг ще залезе, но никой
от насядалите наоколо събирачи на залези не изглежда засегнат
от скандалната краткост на времето. Защото водата
е, разбира се, знак за неуловимото, но и обещание
за повторимост.
А и този град по определение не може да има
сетива за нашите жалки преходности. Твърде плътен е
щитът на вечността му пред стрелите на мигновенията.
И това, че те няма
на пейката срещу водоскоците, не е в състояние да обезсмисли
завръщането на никого… Освен може би на мъжа до колоната,
който бавно прибира във джоба си ненужната вече монета
Elegy
My dear, I’m back in Rome and I’m back beside the Trevi
Fountain. The sun will set any moment, but not one
of the sunset collectors sitting round seems troubled by
time’s scandalous brevity. Because the water,
of course, is a sign of the intangible, but also a promise
of recurrence.
And, by definition, this city can have
no sense of our pitiful transience. The shield of its eternity
is too thick for the arrows of the momentary.
And that you’re not there
on the bench by the fountains cannot make meaningless
anyone’s return … Apart, perhaps, from the man by the column
who slowly puts the now unneeded coin back in his pocket
[Когато и за мене спре каруцата, запрегната]
Когато и за мене спре каруцата, запрегната
с два бели и с два черни коня (мисля,
че това ще е най-справедливо),
надявам се в последния момент от джоба ми
да падне нещо във тревата, за да не отмина
съвсем незабелязано в отвъдното.
То може да е незначително, например моливът
с изгризания край или ключът за никога
несъществувалия наш дом или даже нещо,
което няма как да придобие ясна форма –
като прозрачната мъгла в полето вечер,
увиваща се край нозете ти така,
като че иска да докосне с устни
почти невидимия белег над коляното.
[and when the cart stops for me, drawn]
and when the cart stops for me, drawn
by two white and two black horses (I think
that would be fairest),
I hope that at the last moment something falls out
of my pocket into the grass so I don’t pass into
the beyond unnoticed
it might be trifling, a pencil for instance
with its end chewed or the key to our house
that never existed or even something
that can’t assume a definite form –
like the transparent mist in the evening field
that coils around your legs as if
it wants to brush with its lips
the almost invisible scar above your knee
Born in 1951, Tzotcho Boyajiev has published nine collections of his own poetry (and in some cases photography), as well as an extensive range of works translated from Latin, Greek and German. He has received three major national literary prizes and was named “most-read author of the decade” by Sofia City Library (2014-2024). A professor at Sofia University St Kliment Ohridski, he has an international reputation as a philosopher and is well-known in Bulgaria from his numerous TV appearances. The poems translated here are taken from a selected volume that formed the core of a recent theatre production based on his work at Sofia’s Sfumato Theatre.
Tom Phillips’ translations from Bulgarian extend across a broad spectrum of contemporary Bulgarian literature. Major forthcoming publications include two full-length volumes: Once there was Spring: The poems and prose-poems of Geo Milev (Worple Press, UK, 2025) and A Moment Short of Perfection: Selected poems of Kristin Dimitrova (White Pine Press, USA, 2026). His own poetry has been widely published in magazines, anthologies, pamphlets and three full-length collections: Unknown Translations (2016), Recreation Ground (2012) and Burning Omaha (2003). He currently lives in Bulgaria where he teaches translation and creative writing at Sofia University St Kliment Ohridski.