A Poem by Dimiter Kenarov / Едно стихотворение от Димитър Кенаров

The Salterns 

Looking for a place to settle in, something
to settle down to, after all these years
of traveling and writing about places
and people I hardly knew, saw briefly,
befriended briefly (but in good conscience),
interviewed and recorded and described
diligently for others to know briefly
(seated in their offices, procrastinating,
daydreaming of traveling and writing),

I have come to Burgas, the kind of provincial
town I have always scorned, have always
avoided, have been escaping from
my entire life, though it’s also the kind of town
I’ve visited so often to portray lovingly
for readers in some glittery metropole,
or to profile a local activist fighting
to stop a multinational mining company
from polluting water resources,

and, strangely, now, walking along a paved
sandbar on the outskirts of Burgas that divides
the crashing Black Sea from the still salterns
of the Atanasov Lake, water on both sides,
I feel that maybe (but just maybe), this is
the place to live and die in, a place like
any other, as random as New York or Istanbul,
where people work and play and buy stuff,
and love, if they are lucky, before the end.

And like the wild seawater rushing through
a narrow channel into the old salterns
to stand quiet in shallow pools and turn green
and then orange and blood red with algae,
as pretty as a painting by Mark Rothko,
until there is nothing left at the bottom
but white hearts of salt to be bulldozed
and carted away and loaded on ships
headed for faraway places and tables,

I want to settle down here (but just maybe)
and stand in the sun on the polluted beach
of Burgas, next to the yellow container
cranes of the wharf, and watch the ships
sail out to sea, carrying their precious
cargo to those large cities I once
lived in, while my sweat drips on the ground,
salting it, though I never understood if
this is meant to be a blessing or a curse.

Dimiter Kenarov

 

Димитър Кенаров (1981, София) е поет и журналист. Стихосбирки: „Пътуване към кухнята“ (Жанет 45, 2001) и „Апокрифни животни“ (Жанет 45, 2010). В негов превод излиза стихосбирката на Елизабет Бишъп „Крузо в Англия“ (Стигмати, 2006).

 

Още поезия от Димитър Кенаров:
На детето, извадено живо от разрушен блок в Сирия

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