Wednesday, May 16, 2012

Odyssey by Ivan Borislavov




We are the illegitimate children of freedom,
we are the fallen angels with broken wings.
We were the boatswains of the cursed frigate
damned to sail in the impenetrable fog.


Day and night we chased our vague mirage
until we caught the virus of woe and darkness.
And, like naives, we wanted our dream
to take us at last to the promised coast.


We swore, we mutinied in search of vengeance.
The captain confessed – it was he who broke the compass.
And the blood in our veins suddenly turned to rust.


Since then we have been drifting ghostly in the fog,
wrapped in the spiderwebs of the ocean.
And by custom we salute the captain.

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