IVAN SUHIVANOV SICKNESS Being silent is noble. Being desperate - purifies. The words, chewed by thousands of generations are sticky ... Oh, Lord, If only I didn't know all the words! THREE BITS If you follow the steps of somebody's despair - you will reach yourself again ... **** The faces towards the sea are eyeless The eyes of the soul are distant This way you look at the death, only. **** Let's creep towards our dream - and sleep , and sleep ... intending to wake up anywhere but not here **** Off the ostensible things the moan breaks grits and endlees is the desert reflections reaching its hearts inside the ball of glances is death I want to yell not just to tell it. Translated by Zhivka Ivanova