A Wisp of Smoke

Maria Doneva /translated by Diana Stefanova/

Come closer – and our shoes will touch like this,

and sniffing, rub wet noses in caress.

Come! Let’s explore the flavor of a kiss.

And maybe on your shoulder I could rest

my head? Just listen as the season lingers

down rooftops – and the world is melting south,

and with it, I, frost biting at my fingers,

dissolve into the sweetness of your mouth.

Come close. Our silhouettes will look the same

as sparrows in the winter shades of clear.

Will it be love? Let’s find a different name -

a title less imposing and severe.

Our habitation of the moment’s weather

snow crashing from a roof will interrupt;

away will fly emotion, silent feather -

a wisp of smoke above the mint tea cup.