Biography of Kristin Dimitrova
Kristin Dimitrova, a Bulgarian writer and poet, was born in Sofia on May 19, 1963. Graduated in English and American Studies from the Sofia University, she now works there at the Department of Foreign Languages. From 2004 to 2006 she was editor of Art Trud, the weekly supplement for arts and culture of the Trud Daily, and in 2007-2008 was a columnist for Klasa Daily Since 2008 she has been a regular participant on the Darik Radio Friday talk show The Big Jury. Kristin Dimitrova is a winner of five national awards for poetry, three for prose and one for the translation of John Donne's poetry into Bulgarian.
Kristin Dimitrova Poems
Reading for the Road
At his hotel destination he clutched a glowing glass of cognac among unfamiliar hills for the time being. The receptionist girl
Passing by the City of Sort
Because we didn't buy lottery tickets we missed our chance to rule the world. Our bus takes us away through the mountains while we chew over the omission.
The Truth will Make You Free
To look for a new job.
In the Train
In the train an old Hungarian woman without front teeth
A Poem about the Father who Ate his Watc...
On his left hand he wore three watches. 'Why do you need all three?'
The whole road is besprinkled with lanterns, the lamas are smiling. They banter each other; gathered around the cold fire,
My daughter asked me whether I had brought her bubble gum. I told her I had not
My Life in Squares
Like a chess-player who plays with both the white and the black pieces, I have been attacking myself for a long while.
Old people say that whenever someone lights a cigarette from a candle a sailor dies.
A Visit to the Clockmaker
I crossed the street to enter a secret shop where hundreds of hands grind time.
Post Card to our Brothers, the Little Gr...
Celestial greetings! Accept our celestial greetings!
Noah, the Carrier
Noah told it differently. To the Jewish delegation he said after the raven he had sent out a dove -
Searching for the Answer
I asked the sky ‘Why am I here?' It swallowed my words and waited for more.
Sometimes it is Not Important Who Sings
During the concert, between Iron Men and Bark at the Moon the music kicked out at faces of screaming kids,
Old people say that whenever
someone lights a cigarette from a candle
a sailor dies.
Among sailors, I suppose,
there is a belief that when they shave
in an odd direction, an academic dies.
And they try not to shave.
The point is that we think
about each other.
Translated by Gregory O'Donoghue