The Woman of the Eighth Day

You cannot come on Friday.
Other people are waiting for you.
No way!
You aren’t mine on Friday.
It would be a sin to have you on that day!

Neither on Saturday, neither on Sunday...
Monday? Impossible!
Tuesday? No, why?
Wednesday? Stop asking!
Thursday? Don’t cry.

You with a family, even a puppy!
You were born to make a career.
And I have to learn,
“I’m the last person that matters here”.

I know your life is unique
and the days of the week are seven.
Oh, heaven!
You shouldn’t feel guilty,
you needn’t worry.
I’ve come without asking,
I’m surplus in that story.
I’m just, let it say,
“The Woman of the Eighth Day”.


Donka Kalcheva (Bulgaria)
traducción en inglés: Petia Bozhilova

 

It´s a pretty poem, bojilova1. Waiting for the time to share life, you are giving to her the best gift: your friendship.
Hugs for you.

 

Thank you very much, Filan!
I don t remember who said once that if a woman wants to live a whole life tragedy, she should fall in love with a married man...
Have a nice evening!
Petia