viernes, 30 de noviembre de 2012

En otoño





Hoy la luna es preciosa. Como si fuera sacada de un cuadro de expresionistas. ¡Tan intensamente amarilla, tan redonda y matemente resplandeciente! Y este cielo a su alrededor: durante el día: ¡una mezcla fascinante de gris acero y azul celeste!, y ahora… ¡inexplicable! Diría azul turco, pero en realidad es algo muy mucho más extraño: un color oscuro, pastel, acogedor, tranquilo, hermoso… ¡Qué placer es pasear bajo sus rayos amables y cariñosos, envuelta calientitamente en mi chaqueta tipo esquimal! Sentir el viento tenue que juega con mi pelo, lo arroja fuertemente en mis ojos y me susurra su canción serena al oído!¡ Y el tiempo que hace! Frío, pero tranquilo, claro, precioso…
Pasear por las calles de Sofía en las cuatro estaciones es siempre muy mucho muchísimo diferente. Ahora, en otoño, es una experiencia… Guapa. Salgo por la mañana, el cielo está gris oscuro y las primeras sonrisas del sol iluminan tímidamente a los ciudadanos soñolientos. Paulatinamente se levanta el sol y cubre con sus rayos dorados a los árboles: una paleta de colores, desde los más oscuros y declarados por la mayoría de la gente como ¨feos¨ (negro, marrón, gris) hasta el vivo amarillo, el caliente rojo y el alegre color naranja. ¡Todo reverbera la magia solar, brilla felizmente e invita a la gente a que se una a la bella fiesta! Aun hace frío, fresco más bien, como si el viento fuera el guardia que despierte a los ciudadanos del sueño veraneal.
Es de mediodía, el sol sigue sonriente, aunque su sonrisa ya se pone algo cansada. Los árboles ya no brillan tanto, sus colores mágicos están empolvados del tráfico, del cansancio y de la indiferenca humana. Pese a todo hay algo infantil en su rostro. Algo alegre, parece un guapo iluso, cuya presencia se queda inapreciada. El guardia demuestra su severidad.
Llega la tarde, los matices entre los colores diluyen. El sol se prepara a acostarse. Se siente nostálgico; ruborizado inclina la cabeza hacia abajo, su pelo dorado angélicamente poza sus rizos sobre los cristales de las casas. ¡Paraos un ratito!, ¡decidle adiós, es tan bonito, tan triste de irse! ¡Despedíos de él!, puede que mañana no aparezca más, puede que se muera sofocado por el guardia y su compañera, la niebla. Puede que se duerma y no se despierte a tiempo y que aparezca a las dos, jadeando, nervioso, des-soñ-ol-ado. Puede que se porte mal, que se vaya rápidamente, siendo insatisfecho de la falta de atención por parte de la gente… Se ha acostado ya.
Es de noche. Tan bella, tan tranquila, tan serena, tan hermosa en su vestido pastel estrellado. ¡Y mira la cinta que tiene! Amarillo-plateada que embelleza su cintura. Cariñosa, ella propone alivio, amparo a cada uno que se siente perdido, solitario o… soñador. La naturaleza ya casi no se ve, pero uno la puede percibir a través de su canción distraída y lejana. Falta el guardia, por lo menos esta noche se ha acostado temprano, y la bella doncella florece en su palacio terrestre. Su dulce aliento infiltra serenidad en las almas torturadas de los ciudadanos. Huele a montaña, a vegetación, a pueblo…
Ay, ¡empieza a llover! Ostras, ¡por qué nunca llevo el paraguas conmigo? Me echo a correr, forcejeando con la lluvia. ¡Anda, qué fuerte es esta moza! Pero ¿qué hace? ¿me golpean sus lágrimas o me están acariciando? Deben de pegarme, porque me siento mojada hasta los huesos. Sí, de verdad, pero… ¡Qué guapo es el paisaje que me revela, los colores que se ven a la luz de las farolas! ¡Un arco iris nocturno! ¡Qué preciosidad! ¡Quien pudiera tenderse bajo la lluvia y, endormiéndose por el murmullo de su llanto, contemplar la naturaleza!
Bueno, llego a casa. Como una sopa, pero sonriente. Me preparo un té de escaramujos (¡¿Dios mío, existe una tal palabra!?) y me pego a la ventana. ¡Una sinfonía, un hechizo! Me quedo soñando, mirando por la ventanita a la naturaleza que expresa su ira. ¡Qué bonito es el otoño!

lunes, 26 de noviembre de 2012

In limbo




Foggy weather was reigning all over the city. It was cold, but somehow fresh and agreeable. The drizzle was joyfully washing away the dust of the daily triviality. Here and there you could see some errant  dogs howling and whining from beneath the dirty obsolete cars. However, no sign of sun rays was accessible to the citizens of Bukstone.
A normal boring day that was differentiable from the former one only by the heavenly raindrops.
 Julian woke up at 5.50 and rushed out for school, as usually. The buss came with delay; a repugnant stench of carrion was soaring in it; the people were intimately pushed one against the other, almost hugging each other (but no, no hugs were given by the cheerful citizens. No hugs but intimate groping...). 
Julian reluctantly introduced himself into the orgy and, squeezed between a huge, giant, stinky drunkman, who willingly embraced him, and the cold, wet door, he travelled forty minutes up to his school. Forty minutes where he was apparted from his body, fleeing spiritually from the filthy reality. "Acoustic funeral for love in limbo" was playing in his ears and he was dreaming away, away out of this reality...
7.50 - the buss stopped in front of hir school. He managed to emerge from within the bodies in the buss and ran into his classroom.
- Good morning! - said the teacher with a voice of professionally  concealed grief. 
What followed were six hours of fatuousness. Meanwhile, Julian and his classmates were trying to save the rest of their intelligence and good manners, which was a tough task since the ambiance was so full of pointlessness. They couldn't. Neither the children nor the teachers. Chaos, boredom and implied control, the formula of the decay. Dreams were the only escape, safe and saint, for the children, but anyway their territory were inaccessible in the context of the present tortures. 
The end. As if a flush of contaminated water, the students ran out of the school and breathed the freshness of the freedom. Just an illusion, but anyway, they had something like two or three hours to pretend they were free while they were walking on foot on their way home. Smiling and joking, they were just enjoying themselves, happily sharing their dreams (because now, under the black sky, they were already temporary accessible, permitted) and making together some bizarre plans for the future (that they were perfectly conscious they would never fulfil...).
- Ok, guys, I'll catch the buss from here! - Julian said to his friends. - See ya!
He waved goodbye and prepared herself to freeze to death on the station while he was waiting for the buss. Music was playing in his mind, he was innerly at home, whenever that was, safe and sound, hugged on a sofa and listening to his favorite disc. The night was starry and calm, at home it was warm, calm, cozy.
- Да ти еба майката, нещастен кретен! - the swear harshly interrupted his dreams. 
He felt himself wet to the bones - the buss he'd been waiting for for (as he found out) thirty minutes had passed by the station at full speed (obviously it was the end of the driver's relay and he was rushing towards the garage) sousing with the water of the nearer puddle all the waiting people...
Coldness and wet. Julian closed his eyes again - he was freezing... Now it was hard to imagine he was at home, he was not supposed to feel bad there! He drew out his mobile and checked the hour - fuckin' 15 minutes until the arrival of the new buss! Impatient, he started to walk up and down the pavement. Nervousness conquered his thoughts. Another boy passed by his side, obviously in hurry because of the cold, jostling against his showder. Julian sweared in his mind.
The buss came - the familiar stench embraced the young man, intoxicating all his senses. It was good he went high by the aroma, it served him as an anaesthetic against the harsh jostling and groping in there. After all, fifty minutes travelling in the traffic jams is so damn tedious!
 A spare seat shined among the mob - Julian rushed towards it, fighting his way between the orgy. Satisfied, he won the battle against one old lady and tiredly cosed his eyes, relaxing on the seat. The lady he had defeated looked at him disappointedly and muttered something about the young people nowadays, but he didn't bother himself to pay attention to her words - she was just an annoying subject to interrupt his rest.
Ten minutes later he went off the buss and walked home. He was tired, craving for some tranquillity. Dammit, somebody had left the key in the lock ! Furious, he rang the bell. 
About fifteen minutes later his sister opened the door. Julian was mad at her! 
They started to argue. She seemed nervous too, so she was no near less aggressive in her verbal attacks. Julian got tired. All he wanted was some space to dream freely and instead he was leading a pointless row with his equally tired sister. He gave up and shut the door of the bathroom - the only place he could stay alone for some time. 
- Ok, leave me alone now! - he shouted back to his sister and sat on the floor. 
She muttered something quietly and hided herself in the kitchen.  
Peace... A tear ran down his eye.
The very next moment his mother came home and the screams started again. 
Peace! Peace, for GOD's sake! 
Julian cleaned up the tears off his face and composed himself. It was time to play his role - the only man, however son, in the family. He opened the door to face his mother's and sister's histeria. Tough as a rock, he stayed calm, bore without showing his emotions the madness of the women. After all, somebody should be the man in that family.

martes, 20 de noviembre de 2012

Icy wall (variaton of Peyo Yavorov)

With love…


Icy wall – that’s where I was born
Glassy wall – my world’s thrown.
The cool wall – freezing here I am.
The eternal wall – no chance to run away…

Whoever comes – it darkly kills:
Who didn’t come! – the corpses, full.
Whoever comes, the light devoured:
Who didn’t come! – I die in darkness.

lunes, 19 de noviembre de 2012

A goodbye letter



To Vlady…

You’ve changed. No, you might have not, I think I used to see the flash in your eyes. Yes, indeed, it’s been always there – that naughty, cowardly, ambitious flame…

I miss your friendship, I would sit and talk to you for hours… You’d tell me about your ideas and I’d argue with you, you’d get mad with me and I’d laugh… Long gone are those days and we both know it. We used to be friends, now we are nothing but strangers.

Still… I feel sorry for you. You used to be timid, idealistic, dreamer, above all material things. Now you’re just one of the many. You enjoy the same activities that you used to detest. You go out with your “friends” only to get drunk. You’re playing the cool all the time, the confident machoman. Even you change your voice as if it’d change your personality. Conformistically, you become what you’ve most hated. 

Adaptation? Probably. Degradation I’d say. You buy your clothes from the expensive shops, only brands are accepted in your wardrobe. As if the clothes will make you more confident, more valued and important. Now you don’t go to the mortals’shops, you don’t eat mortals’ food… You’re above all this since you have a bigger salary. You can spend your money on whatever you wish for in order to make yourself happy. 

Are you happy, sunshine? What are you trying to hide? Your loneliness, your complexes, your fears? Aren’t you married to that bloody solitude? You fight you say? Oh, dear, but you’re losing the battle. No? You must be kidding me! Really? Wow…

But yes, in your eyes you’re so brave, so good, so much more than the others. You have trendy clothes and big salary… 15 eu for a pair of jeans seems nothing to you… You’re my champion, a subject to a perfect change. You’re intangible. Accepted by the rest of the world, valued, even loved… 

My dear, do you really believe in all this? I know you don’t and I know you crave for it could be true. So afraid, so miserable in your fears, you’ve given up. You belong to a different world now. I still love you, my dear brother, I’ll be there for you, I’d be the one to take you back to the park and make you sit on the grass (with my capasca pantalon!!! Calm down, lion-heart, come sit on my jacket, it’s ok…), I’d listen to your problems, I’d try to help you, but… I don’t trust you anymore. You’re not the friend I used to have, you’ve killed him for the acceptance and the approval of the world. Now you’re a stranger to me, lost and distant. 

I  hope you’ll be happy in your new world. I hope you’ll enjoy your “freedom”. I hope you’ll find inner peace and harmony, friends and love… I hope… and cry. I lost a friend, but… I gained an experience. 

Sweet dreams, little bunny, and goodbye. We may meet again, but it will never be the same. Be safe and happy, dear. 

Yours, Vicky