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Начало › Petya Dubarova › Poets › SATURDAYS
On Saturdays I"m unappreciated -
wild, flexible, and lively as a lynx.
And tiredness, having turned into a whim,
vacates me like a wound - healed up and faded.
School totally collapses in my mind
and I am far from registers an blackboards.
A hundred thousand rivers run towards me,
tints, hues, and rainbows fill my eyes,
and I get rhythms from those gipsy women.
I"m very, very strong - a vine in spring,
and I turn my guitar into a tear;
I never ask questions, never listen.
On Saturdays I"m unappreciated -
wild, flexible, and lively as a lynx.
And fear, sorrow, tiredness or whims
vacate me like a wound - healed up and faded.
And I"m not even sure who I am.
But when I put on Monday"s uniform -
that blackboard-tunic once again,
I turn into a good girl as before.
B.T.
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