Child

(A description of the canvas “Robin”
and of other things)

For Dicho Dichev

The painter is yours alone,
Child with the eyes of a woman
before a hanged son.
With that yellow blouse
and the hair everywhere
and the brush that tries
to catch
the fleeing shade of the curls
and you
and the way you look past my shoulder,
while I cannot see there
with you
and you never glance at the others,
let alone at me
and the fear
of the invented rules
in the struggle for life —
the death of others,
child?
Now you no longer see
The painter reached for the eyes,
and I had no strength to stop him
(and who has — you are his alone),
and I watched...
And still I hear the gramophone:
“Come, let us dance, milord...”

1989