This is a 

thwarted poem,

forever derailed from the course of its genuine words.
In it I was going to relate
how at one point I put my sandals in a backpack
and shamelessly barefoot kept getting off the ship – island after island –
while on my heels the dust of cozy ports delightfully mingled.
And when – at last, yet fast – we arrived at the place
it takes nine years to reach,
a prideful cliché expert tried to shake our confidence:
“His kingdom is actually
the place you departed from,
this island is too small for your and his kingdom…”
without realizing that on my heels already
happily lived
all islands at once.

Author: Marin Bodakov
Translator: Katerina Stoykova