Ден

                              Ден

 Ще се изправя най-сетне от кревата,                                                                                      

 ще потърся погледа с очи.                                                                                                               

 Ще събера усмивките, стопили се в стената                                                                              

 и тъй до мене ще си ти.                                                                                                                         

 Ще изпия кафето си от вчера,                                                                                                                  

 ще залъжа сърцето с щипка захар за обяд.                                                                                            

 Ще гадая остатъците кротко за вечеря                                                                                           

 и за нищо няма да ме бъде яд.                                                                                                  

 Да, ще бъде ден блажен!                                                                                                                                    

 Ден на тягост и наслада,                                                                                                      

 денят, в който пажът унижен                                                                                                             

 е по-честит от сянката на царя.                                                                                                            

 Такъв, единствен и велик,                                                                                                                          

 пирува в ъгъла си тесен.                                                                                                        

 Ден, избягал като миг,                                                                                                             

 с вкуса на спомена примесен.                                                                                                    

 Да, денят на снимката без лик,                                                                                                                                   

 денят на твоите любими стих и песен.                                                                                    

 Виж, стопява се денят,                                                                                                           

 в месец тъничък унесен.                                                                                                           

 от длани нежни е омесен,                                                                                           

 отмерил на надеждата алая.                                                

 Незначителен, съдбовен,                                                                                                    

 свита ръкописна запетая.                                                                                                                                                                           

 Цвят и мирис в мойта есен.                                                                                                  

 Кога, някога попитах,                                                                                                             

 където ти ми отговори.                                                                                                 

 Опипвам последно слепешката,                                                                                                                 

 с изтрити пръсти кости ровя,                                                                                                                    

 непрогледнала за ден вината                                                                                                                

 при мен смълчано пак   ме води.                                                                                                                                                                                                                         

 Ето те! Под свойта кожа                                                                                                            

 май че съм те сложил.                                                                                                     

 Намирам го, макар накрая,                                                                                              

 преди отново да полегна.                                                                                                                                

 Невидим път, води ме в рая.