Flags - Poem by Bozhidar Pangelov
Leave these ships with the big
white sails that hardly are wobbling.
Leave this cry of the gulls full of
longing – let the lungs swallow the wind
Leave the eyes, let them travel beyond
the horizons –
And find that angle of the time – of
“Here and there does not
and that grief which hollows out the air
becomes the jump,
becomes wing beat,
the water deep in the tank,
the entire while of moving unmovable.
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