Разтягане на допира, Владимир Трендафилов


Stretching the touch

My ear touches 

                       to the hair

of some girl in the crowd, sunlight

and a grey silhouette — I go deaf

from the strings. Grass

                  seemingly grows  and a mole’s 

nuzzling his way to the sound,

but it never succumbs. Walled up,

                       as if by bricks,

the ear is trying to say something aloud.