Staying in front of the table
Like a friend-steadful and stable
My grandmother was preparing a meal
And then the house had about it a homely feel.
She looked at me in a strange way
And I didn’t know what to say.
Then she started telling me about the spice,
It was something I could hardly realize.
It wasn’t easy to cook
And I understood her words without peeping in
The cookery book.
Now I know that sometimes the meal can be bitter,
And I need courage-maybe a litre.
By trying it everyone can burst into tears
And experience his biggest fears.
But the meal can be very sweet
If you let your heart to lead.
If you add the spice in the right way,
You can also see a sunny day.
Everyone cooks his own meal
And its scent is life’s peal.
You have to eat what you’ve made
And sit at the table you’ve laid.
I’ve also prepared my meal and now I’m sitting at the table,
Listening to my grandmother who’s telling me about the meal “life”-this ancient fable.
 

Diana Nikova