by Kristin Dimitrova
My daughter asked me whether
I had brought her bubble gum.
I told her I had not
but I was there all right.
She objected that I was one thing
and bubble gum quite another.
I pointed out she could not always
expect something nice.
She corrected me:
‘Not something nice but bubble gum.’
And although the sun was doing its best
and the birds interrupted each other
and the grass in the park was greedy-green,
my daughter rained her heart out.
There is a happy world and a sad one
and bubble gum in-between.
Trans. from the Bulgarian by Gregory O'Donoghue
Last updated October 02, 2011