Yavor Kostov


The Number Of Man - Poem by Yavor Kostov

The boy woke up
and saw
everywhere high walls were built
according to a new law.
Bright colors – lacking morality
Bright colors but with doubtful-quality.

The paintings
showed kids,
holding balloons
in red nuance
A river sprang
from under a tower
with four columns –
ancient columns but new ones.

From the tower
faces showed up
and all of them
looked differently.
Only one thing
united them -
the deep grey sorrow
and the fight against liberty.

Then from the earth
black smoke rose
and filled the whole world
with malice.
Then the man was lifted high,
a volcano erupted,
volcano of vice

From the tower
showed up faces,
behind the walls.
With the mark on their
foreheads
they looked like animals

Reader,
You live in a dark century,
That’s why is needed wisdom
in Heaven’s name.
Remember,
that the number with the
Mark of the beast
is number of man

When I woke up, I
Realized
Walls were built everywhere

Translation from Bulgarian: Sarah Kostov


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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Poem Edited: Wednesday, June 1, 2011


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