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Anelia Scrimova

HOLES LEFT BY A PAIR OF COMPASSES

lyrics

© Anelia Scrimova, author © Dimitar Dimov, translation © Biser Bosilin, photographer © PAN-VT Publishing , 2000

ROAD TOWARDS TRUTH

You touch my dreams with lips,

Asleep from truths unspoken

And you are in a hurry as if we’ll miss

The fate for which we have the token.

Don’t tell me I have dreamed in vain –

I don’t want to feel useless once more!

For every dream there’s an interpretation sane

But truth disappears never to restore.

Then don’t touch my dreams

With these lips thrilled by fear!

To truth there are lots of ways it seems

And one of them, my lips, is here.

BALANCE

The snow is filling

Traces left from cats,

Proving me again,

That gaps in me are so unsound,

That thing that has to fill my bareness

Doesn’t go on proper place.

I’ll make a straight and narrow line.

It’ll mean a penetration mutual

Between the full and empty

When snow is overwhelming

The traces left from cats.

HOLES LEFT BY A PAIR OF COMPASSES

Hoar-frost fell on the sharp pair of compasses,

With which I tried to draw

Soap bubbles on the cheeks

Of people made of stone.

It became noiseless.

With ease I was devoid of

That supernatural ability.

Traces from the compasses holes

Were left on the people’s cheeks.

And I could play naive,

In search of touching point

With sciences,

That there’s no perimetre is divine.

ONRUSH

I fly away with wings

From the moral’s barbed wire.

Thus we didn’t became identical

‘Cause I’m still dreaming of the fire.

I dream that I am taming suns,

Letting loose the beasts from cages,

Fed up with dew from forest webs.

From darkness I’ll make a star to shine for ages.

Just to have clue for my steps

Anelia Scrimova HOLES LEFT BY A PAIR OF COMPASSES lyrics	*© Anelia Scrimova, author © Dimitar Dimov, translation © Biser Bosilin, photographer © PAN-VT Publishing , 2000*
ROAD TOWARDS TRUTH You touch my dreams with lips, Asleep from truths unspoken And you are in a hurry as if we’ll miss The fate for which we have the token. Don’t tell me I have dreamed in vain – I don’t want to feel useless once more! For every dream there’s an interpretation sane But truth disappears never to restore. Then don’t touch my dreams With these lips thrilled by fear! To truth there are lots of ways it seems And one of them, my lips, is here.	*BALANCE* The snow is filling Traces left from cats, Proving me again, That gaps in me are so unsound, That thing that has to fill my bareness Doesn’t go on proper place. I’ll make a straight and narrow line. It’ll mean a penetration mutual Between the full and empty When snow is overwhelming The traces left from cats.
HOLES LEFT BY A PAIR OF COMPASSES *Hoar-frost fell on the sharp pair of compasses,* *With which I tried to draw* *Soap bubbles on the cheeks* *Of people made of stone.* *It became noiseless.* *With ease I was devoid of* *That supernatural ability.* *Traces from the compasses holes* *Were left on the people’s cheeks.* *And I could play naive,* *In search of touching point* *With sciences,* *That there’s no perimetre is divine.*	*ONRUSH* I fly away with wings From the moral’s barbed wire. Thus we didn’t became identical ‘Cause I’m still dreaming of the fire. I dream that I am taming suns, Letting loose the beasts from cages, Fed up with dew from forest webs. From darkness I’ll make a star to shine for ages. Just to have clue for my steps