… което тежи като камък на сърцето ми…

Какъв е този камък?

И защо тежи?

Защото носи в себе си тъй много,

тъй много повече, отколкото е поносимо за човека.


… it weighs – a stone upon my chest…

What stone is that?

Why does it weigh?

Because it holds within itself much more

than what is bearable for the heart.

Керваните на нощните ти мисли

Присядаш тихо и се взираш,

а пред очите ти минават, без да спират

керваните на нощните ти мисли,

забили поглед в пясъчните писти

или зареяли го към оазиси далечни…

и времето за сън изтече…

Присядаш тихо и клепачите залепват,

керваните вървят, пред теб потрепват

отровните оазиси далечни.

Fire on the hill

And so – it was a fact! It was here! Or, rather – there! That was real, and there, and then and, it seemed – forever!

However, she knew, that forever often lasts but briefly. A sigh, a heartbeat, the blink of an eye and forever is past.

The wild fire of crocuses was all over the hill. Come sun, go sun, the fire was never gone, but flamed high and vigorous, and untameable. The air was fresh with the scents of life and youth. The sky was high and crystal, never to be reached or clouded. The vision before her suddenly got clear and so wide, and open, and infinite.

Spring is the celebration of life!


И ето – случи се! Беше тук! Или по-точно – там! Беше истинско, и беше там и тогава и сякаш завинаги!

И все пак тя знаеше, че вечността често трае само миг. Една въздишка, удар на сърцето, мигване и вечността се превръща в минало.

Дивият пожар на минзухарите беше по целия хълм. Изгрев, залез, пожарът не изчезваше, а гореше на високо, буен и неукротим. Въздухът беше свеж от ароматите на живот и младост. Небето беше високо и кристално, сякаш недостижимо и невъзможно да се заоблачи. Изгледът пред нея изведнъж стана ясен и така обширен, открит и безкраен.

Пролетта е тържество на живота!

The Wall (1973)

Всичко в живота на един човек – всички събития, хора, мисли, чувства, връзки, неизбежно водят до огорчение, изолация, нежелание и, накрая, невъзможност той да живее в обществото.

Виждаме колко е кратък пътят между свръхчувствителност и безчувственост, между хилаво човеколюбие и пълна нечовечност. Това се случва лесно на слабите умове.

Освен всички външни фактори, които със сигурност помагат да се построи стената, очевидно има и вътрешен фактор, в комбинация с който, всички се превръщат в правилния коктейл на саморазрушението.


Everything in a person’s life – all the events, all people, thoughts, emotions and relations, invariably lead to embitterment, isolation, reluctance and disability that he shall live in society.

We can see how short is the way from supersensitivity to unsensitivity, from sleazy love of humanity and total lack of such. That is the story of weak minds.

Apart from all the external factors that help build the wall, apparently there is an internal one, combining with which, they all turn to the exact cocktail of self-destruction.

The eagle carries off the bleeding earth (by Gerald Scarfe)

and the song Comfortably Numb

As with the ending of the row

As with the ending of the row

we find it so fragile to grow

and spending all our time just musing

we dance to shallow music

and walk in shallow miry waters

where we should climb high over fires

and dancing, walking do we stand

so close and ready for the end.


Тъй както в края на реда,

е толкоз трудно нещо да расте

и цялото си време губим ний във чудене,

танцуваме на скучна музика

и в плитките блата пристъпваме,

а пламъците трябва да прескачаме…

и в танци и пристъпване стоим

тъй близо и готови да заспим.

8th March

8th March – International Women’s Day is the day when the world is reminded that “Women hold up half the sky.” (by the words of Chairman Mao).

The struggle is far from over, it aims not only at change in the system, but also in women. Very often women themselves are the tools of their own discrimination.

Vain expectations

She almost expected that one morning she would wake and look out to find the hill on fire, ablaze with the wild orange of the crocusses.

She expected in vain.


Беше сигурна, че скоро ще се събуди и като погледне навън, ще види хълма пламнал от неукротимото оранжево на минзухарите.

Надеждите й бяха напразни.

Regarding ProZ.com

It is most unnerving how incompetent some of the askers there are. Still, they are paid members of the community and, probably, have good “history” and “strong profile”, which leads to better job opportunities.
However, I cannot help but notice that some of them show knowledge of English as if from a beginners’ course.

Some examples include:
“Well singst thou, cuckoo” – where she asked about the forms singst and thou. We have studied that at university and everyone has met that in reading.

“What seeketh ye?” – same question. Same opinion on my behalf.

“Yet the reader is little confused” – where she was wondering whether the reader IS or IS NOT confused, after all. Some colleagues explained quite politely the difference between little and a little, which is a subject-matter in beginners’ English, really.

Her last hit was: “They won against amazing odds” – where she did not know the meaning of the idiom.

I believe it is scandalous to let such unlearned people claim that they are translators and work in that profession.

Regarding poetry

I was asked recently if I could translate poetry.

Well, for sure, I can write poetry, in both languages at that. As for tranlating it, obviously I can’t.

When I write it, I usually “transfer” it to the other language, but I do it by simply re-composing it, I never care about rhythm or rhyme.

ref.: here


От сянката отсъстват цветовете –

еднообразието там царува…

все пак съмнението трудно се рисува.

От сянката отсъстват и контурите,

и безгранична може да е тя…

все пак най-трудно се описва свобода.


Shadow lacks in colours

monotony is there the ruler,

and yet, we find it hard

to picture doubt.

Shadow has no borders,

it may be limitless, at that…

yet freedom is the hardest task of art.