Enough is enough!

Photo taken by me in Albania

Of course we shouldn’t get attached to material things too much, of course, but I’m only a human, so there have been a few ones I’ve found extremely hard to part with. The below story is about one of such special objects.

One summer afternoon my friend and her little…

Crime story

Source: rescueram3 (via pixabay)

It was highly uncomfortable to be translating this kind of document in such weather conditions, with this dark, wind and rain behind the window. Even in sunny weather the light was always on in the office since it was situated in a tenement house shadowed by nearby buildings and trees…

Free verse

Photo by Matheus Bertelli (via pexels)

To find the sun
in the darkest night
and stare at it
with bare eyes
opened wide.
To stomp my feet
on the Milky Way
and shout
Yes, I can!
To swing on the moon horn
with a net in hands
and catch nearby stars
to swallow them and shine.
To drag me to the edge
of a cliff, jump and crash.

Free verse

Author: Willgard (via pixabay)

I’m no longer a resident
of your planet.
I always felt all alone there
surrounded by crowds
equipped with big mouths,
but devoid of faces and hearts.

Too intense a smell
impossible to ignore
like a cheap perfume
leaving me breathless,

The landscape dazzles
with colors,
leaving me dizzy,
causing nausea

Useful manual. Very useful.

Author by TeaCora Rooibos (via unsplash)

Ageing is no fun at all. The older you get the less is available for your possible consumption. Alcohol — out, tobacco — out, even coffee should be limited as, apart from being a precious stimulant, it also kills mercilessly all and any vitamins and minerals.

Since me and my…

Free verse

Author: Tamara Velazquez (via pexels)

I wish you were a book
I could just open
any time and read.
I’d read the whole of it,
from the preface
to the epilogue,
studying every chapter,
every sentence, every word
with great zeal and devotion.

But you’re not.
Thus I myself try to write
a book about you instead.

Free verse

Author: AP Berlin (via pixabay)

Under my breath
I whispered…

It was raining.
The melody of raindrops
drumming on my umbrella,
the tiny rivers speeding
down the streets,
the heavy, damp air
pushing its way through
my nostrils to explode
in the whole body –
all that made me whisper
under my breath
the three little words…

Marta Mozolewska

translator, mother of two naughty kids, and writer in the meantime, marta.mozolewska333@gmail.com

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