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The roads, wound up in a roll,
are beginning to unroll again and their
endings stop before my worn out shoes.
It’s time to go home – at the airports and the stations,
in the small streets of the unknown cities.
When I get there, I will say: Here flow my rivers,
these are my lawns, where my trees and my
street lamp welcome me.
I am home everywhere as long as I am not
there for long, I can live everywhere as long as
it does not become too familiar,
I am nothing but a coryphaeus of absence.
The dates of the best days are written on the tickets,
the most exciting city is the unroven one, the most
cozy room is the unfurnished one and the most beloved
woman is the next, because the best way of life is always
the new one and I am more and more myself
when I am already someone else
.

    


Dimitar Ganev has many prestigious literary prizes from various competitions – for prose, poetry
and drama – and two books of short stories. The first one (“Impersonal stories”) was published
when he was 15 years old, the second (“The afternoons of the lazy lover”) was published in the
end of 2011. He studies English Philology at the University of Vienna
.


I wrote this poem on a train from Florence to Bologna or from Paris to Berlin – I don’t remember. It was June last year and I spent the whole month travelling around Europe. I found the poem in a notebook, which I used for a travel diary and which I found in Vienna, the city I choose to live in for now, until the next train finds me.


 









 





  


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