Museum day in sofia Poem by Uwe Kolbe
Museum day in sofia
The holiest parts of the poet float
in two jars in a dusty case,
fish-white in formaldehyde.
Yet sitting there, somehow my heart
beat hard in front of his; my brain
zoned out as his did long ago -
till suddenly I was very old,
and very calm, and fine with death.
Translation: Luke Davies
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5/8/2024 3:40:59 PM # 1.0.0.1119
