It has rained outside
you walk out sluggish from sleep and
(on your way to the privy)
hrush
the snail under your feet

a murder in the second degree
that doesn't cut down the guilt
you look around
the morning bears no witnesses
you shove the body in the grass
heavy with dew
that doesn't absolve the guilt
such a small murder
just forgetting it
takes the whole day

Translated from Bulgarian by Maria Vassileva