Taifas Literary Magazine No. 7, January, 2021

3 authors ... p.
editorial ... p. 3
poetry ... p. 10
prose ... p. 26
essay ... p. 31
confabulation ... p. 34
2 authors ... p. 49
Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 7, January, 2021
coperta2 2 authors
Sameer Goel Tanu Vermai Kapoor
poem.. Reminiscent
some unfortunates Moments that were ours…never elapsed

howsoever deep Dangling in oblivion, few sprigs of ‘us’ they
roots of their love may be grasped
never get it back in reciprocation.. Arduously seeking an excuse for existence
. Clinging to every shred of persistence
the way they love Forever grueling to furnish an abyss
beyond scales and parameters Created by a worldly absence
fail miserably as not Mind and heart in incessant rift
everyone deserves their love.. Rigid to move on…excepting the drift
. Heart sensed a bit, you
their end, never so happy aren’t around
a trauma, they always go Still fuzzily perceives
through your presence surround
succumb to the hurts, In each and every breath I
they never deserved ever. count
Vildana Staniscic In stars and floating Moon
that daunt
A song of peace In every bit of me I flaunt
In everything we
Peace is love, shared…now haunt
peace is above all, Emotional crisis makes
when birds fly in the open sky. me gaunt
Peace has no alternative, I fail to keep your thoughts at bay
peace is a smiling child. Time enveloped us yet, we found each other
though, we went a long way
Always be in harmony with everyone, Autumn, winter, summer, spring…brewed
whenever you can grief and dismay
help the needy. Seasons altered not my heart, I wish my love
May peace reign in your soul, to stay!!
may the whole universe be blessed.
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ISSN 2458-0198 - ISSN-L 2458-0198 TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 7,January, 2021
editorial 3-4
Balzac, acest exponent al prozei moderne, tot
Paul Rotaru aceștia ne vor îngădui și o mică detaliere. Mulți
dintre marii prozatori ai literaturii universale
Et poesis quo? au debutat cu încercări poetice, versul fiind
considerat un apanaj al tinereții, ca ulterior să-
Motto: Poezia începe din titlu și nu și afle vocația propriului lirism în
se sfârșește niciodată. monumentale opere în proză. Un exemplu pe
placul inimii autorului acestor rânduri este
Balzac, un veritabil vizionar al intențiilor însuși Caragiale care, într-un moment de
umane fără ca el însuși să pretindă asta de la precară inspirație, credem noi, ironiza poezia
sine, izbutește să construiască, în romanul chiar în fața celui mai bun prieten al său,
Iluzii pierdute, o strălucită parabolă a nimeni altul decât Eminescu. Dacă veți citi
destinului poeziei. Și face asta cu ușurința versurile lui Caragiale, veți înțelege lesne
conferită de convingerea faptului comun, a punctul nostru de vedere.
ochiului care nu vede Așadar, Poezia
excepționalitate și care nu încotro? Asemenea unui
manifestă vexare în cleric care, întrebat fiind
proximitatea acestui unde este Dumnezeu în
destin. Iar parabola sa vremuri de restriște
rezidă în tocmai antiteza a mondială, vom da același
două entități: Lucien răspuns: acolo unde a fost
Chardon, un maestru al dintotdeauna. Sigur,
cuvântului, poet prin redundanța ce reiese din
tehnică și spontaneitate, această sentință aparent
care se compromite în evazivă, suscită oarece
mod caraghios în inima frustrări în chestiunea
unei societăți decadente poetică, de aceea vom
și cumnatul său, David Séchard, poet prin apela, mai departe, la dispoziția cititorului,
simțire și existență, însă lipsit de talentul asigurându-l de preocuparea noastră, dacă nu
nativ, spirit pitoresc, de o bonomie soră cu deplină, cel puțin satisfăcătoare asupra
naivitatea. Balzac nu propune o analiză a unor lirismului în sine. Căci Poesis nu înseamnă
arhetipuri umane plauzibile, ci le ia, pur și doar versificare! Versuri se scriau și la Moulin
simplu, din modernitatea contemporană și le Rouge, ba chiar se savurau cu enormă
aduce înaintea noastră dezavuându-le larghețe. Poesis rezidă oriunde se identifică în
etos, în tradiție, luându-și eponimul după
identitățile de orice artificiu – și, de ce nu am
crede-o, lumea acelor vremuri avea multe de continentul spiritual al simțitorului. Și iată, cu
oferit în sensul ăsta! La fel ca azi și ca toate acestea, se scriu multe versuri, fără ca ele
întotdeauna, de când Homo Sapiens se erijează să fie poezie, fără să conțină miezul substanței
lirice, fără să emane nici măcar cel mai firav
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în ceea ce pretinde a fi.

Dacă, pentru unii cititori, apare drept un fior de viață – iar asta este o consecință a fricii
paradox faptul că, într-un editorial despre de prozodie, a tendinței de aliniere la uzanțe
poezie, aducem în primul paragraf numele lui propuse și impuse de... niște non-poeți!
De partea cealaltă, se află timizii,
year I, no. 7, 2021, January ISSN 2458-0198 – ISSN-L 2458-0198
indecișii, adică aceia care caută cu orice preț să versului, efect al perplexității)! Încă ceva: de la
se ralieze unor standarde pe care nici nu le Baudelaire încoace, s-a trezit un deștept să
înțeleg, nici nu le vor agrea vreodată. Abia spună că Florile răului au dat naștere poeziei
dacă poți spera să scrii poezie în pentametru moderne. Apăi, dacă însuși Baudelaire ar fi
iambic doar pentru că cineva spune că acest auzit inepția asta, i-ar fi dat ipocritului cu
tip de vers aparține literaturii engleze! Abia cartea peste ochi! Sau, ceva mai delicat, l-ar fi
dacă vrei să construiești amfibrahi și anapești orientat către Candidul lui Voltaire și
doar pentru că altcineva, înaintea ta, a făcut-o numeroasele versiuni ale nașterii lui Tamuz
– și încă cu ce măiestrie! Dragii mei, luați-l pe pentru a vedea mostre de literatură modernă!
Eminescu! El abundă de pentametri iambici Dar când a fost vreodată ceva modern în
(Ai noștri tineri), de amfibrahi (Mortua est!) și jalnica istorie a lui Homo Sapiens? Oare Dante
s-a aventurat în jocul de prozodii până într- Aligheri ar mai fi scris Divina Comedie dacă ar
acolo încât s-a întors la versul popular ca să ne fi crezut că modernitatea omenirii se va
ofere Luceafărul. El a scris Epigonii, apoi instaura abia după Baudelaire? Oare ar mai fi
Memento mori și, mai visat el la o întâlnire cu
târziu, Scrisorile urmând Vergiliu în Infern și cu
o prozodie ușor de regăsit Beatrix în Paradis dacă
la pașoptiști precum Ion modernismul,
Heliade Rădulescu postmodernismul și
(Sburătorul) sau Grigore neomodernismul nu
Alexandrescu (Umbra lui aveau, încă, degete să bată
Mircea. La Cozia), dar nu la porțile lumii? Cum a
numai acolo, ci în chiar putut Ovidiu cel trist să se
literatura clasicilor latini metamorfozeze într-un
precum Vergiliu, Horațiu, ținut al geților care
Juvenal și Ovidiu! Cum să râdeau în batjocură de
crezi că scrii poezie de graiul lui latin?
vreme ce te ferești de așa-zisele șabloane? Ai Modernitate?! Nu, domnii mei! Lirică. Scumpa
întâlnit pentametrul trohaic al lui Esenin (Toți și oropsita lirică! Modernitatea e dejecția unei
vom fi acolo, poți să sameni/Viața ta cu râs și cu gândiri eterogene care, sub aparența
tumult!/Pentru asta trag mereu spre liberalismului, invită spiritul să își suprime
oameni/Și-i iubesc pe toți atât de mult.//Pentru individualitatea prin acces la porțile facile ale
asta inima mi-e moartă/Când privesc al anilor falselor democrații. Prin estompare, spiritul
prăpăd./Vechea casă cu-n dulău la nu mai iese din mulțime, ci se autogenerează
poartă/Parcă simt că n-am s-o mai revăd) și ai în standardul unui infinit de oglinzi, incapabil
descoperit că, la vreo optzeci de ani după să discearnă sinele de ceilalți și mulțimea de
moartea lui, ai scris ceva în aceeași prozodie și diversitate.
te suspectezi singur de plagiat? Păi, dacă te uiți Punctul just al sentimentului nu are nicio
4
după fiecare nor, nu mai pleci niciodată la relevanță în raport cu șabloanele propuse de
drum! falsele libertăți! În teoria contagioasă a
Lasciateʼogni speranza, voi chʼintrate (tot „modernismului“ (a se citi
pentametru iambic, la care se adaugă un „pseudomodernism“!), valențele converg
contraiamb sublimat în ultima silabă a către același perimetru eterogen, în care
gândirile tipizate vehiculează nonsensuri cu căci asta ar conduce la schilodirea spiritului

valoare axiomatică, în care libertatea se privându-l de motorul care generează
rezumă la tiparul unei realități construite prin contemplarea. Materia, odată trecută prin
ingerința unor precepte aduse cu roaba caleidoscopul perspectivei estetice, se
înaintea gurii. Deci, ce modernism și de unde? abstractizează, devine idee și, deci, intră în
Din Comuna Primitivă?! Din marmura starea eterală, iar concretul rămâne extensia
Senatului Roman?! Din flamura înstelată a fixă a unui simbol. De așa manieră se comportă
Europei?! Ori din degetul mic al lui Lincoln cel poezia, acest narcotic ce domolește sevrajele
așezat pe tron?! Și, ca să dăm credit (cu aceeași cotidianului, stârnește frenezii erotice prin
plăcere!) lui Eminescu, teoriile astea „supte transpunerea eului în voluptosul relief al
din deget“ înseamnă modernism?! Cine nu planetei Venus și descătușează cugetul de
înțelege că poezia este modernă în eternitatea rigiditatea rațiunii prin animarea pulsiunilor
ei, că ea rezidă dintotdeauna în arealul lirice.
suprastructurat al gândirii și esteticii, ei bine, „Arzătoarea voință de creație mă aduce
aceia sunt dedați (fie-ne mereu la om, în același fel
iertată expresia) la în care ciocanul este
prostituție literară. Când mânat spre piatră“ – scria
sufletul ajunge la Nietzsche cu privire la
supraplin de angoase, fie monumentala sa operă
cade doborât, fie își „Așa grăit-a Zarathustra“.
desprinde aripile și Nu cred că există în
izbucnește din crupa literatura universală o
convenționalului. Noi sintetizare mai iscusită a
singuri ne creăm ziduri menirii creatorului,
împrejur și tot singuri întrucât ea combate
vom fi în corvoada de a le teoria formelor în scopul
dărâma. În definitiv, eliberării fondului. Și ce
spiritele noastre gemene se află dincolo de altceva este poezia dacă nu o manifestare a
acele baricade și nu ni se vor alătura decât fondului pur, originar, dezavuat de restricțiile
atunci când vom fi gata să le primim. Astfel, pe care le îmbracă în mod amăgitor
lumea asta plină de simulări precare nu va mai convenționalul? A crede că poezia oglindește
fi străină de ea însăși, căci este un dat al firii să fidel structura interioară, adică fondul
cunoaștem Purgatoriul înaintea Paradisului. creatorului, este, uneori, o deplorabilă
Freamătul spiritului condensat în amăgire. Cu toate acestea, cititorul resimte
splendorile esteticii cristalizează năzuințele aleanul atavic de reîntregire ce rezidă în
rațiunii, iar expresia poetică înalță făptura sevele versului. De aceea, pentru ca o poezie să
umană în sfera eterică fără să riște a-i mânia își asigure eternizarea, autorul necesită să
pe zeii artelor. Doar că desprinderea de cauzal atingă numeroase deziderate din care vom
necesită o exaltare a referențialului critic în aminti verosimilitatea și bogăția
5
progresie geometrică prin cultivarea intensă a vocabularului propriu. Scopul oricărei creații
acestui spirit. Desigur, nu trebuie să lirice verosimile este, de cele mai multe ori,
confundăm această întreprindere cu reflexiv-subiectiv, dar asta nu o împiedică, așa
devalorizarea factorului substanță, materie, cum tradiția literară ne-o arată, să oglindească
simțăminte comune, dovedindu-și, astfel,

mobilul tranzitiv. Poate că și de aceea mentalul Et poesis quo?
colectiv dă credit majoritar prozei, alterând
personalitatea poeziei prin orientare către Motto: Poetry begins with the title
and never ends.
proza scurtă, efect al tendinței de satisfacere
imediată a unor nevoi sub generic intelectual.
E drept că ritmul vieții comportă cadențe Balzac, a true visionary of human
imprevizibile, că omul își măsoară rațiunea de intentions without himself claiming this,
a fi pe scara hazardului și el a realizat că drama manages to build, in the novel Lost Illusions, a
îl apropie sau îl îndepărtează de alți oameni tot brilliant parable of the destiny of poetry. And
așa cum o face fericirea. Tocmai de aceea he does this with the ease conferred by the
„ciocanul“ lui Nietzsche se apropie de „piatră“ conviction of the common fact, of the eye that
și poezia stă aproape de spirit. does not see exceptionality and that does not
Dacă m-ar fi întrebat cineva ce concluzii show vexation in the proximity of this destiny.
aș trasa la acest editorial, And his parable lies in the
cândva aș fi fost tentat să exact antithesis of two
răspund că nu există entities: Lucien Chardon,
concluzii pertinente și a master of the word, a
exhaustive în privința poet by technique and
poeziei. Dragii mei, aș spontaneity, who jokingly
încerca, totuși, un compromises himself in
exercițiu de imaginație și the heart of a decadent
v-aș invita să vă society and his brother-
abandonați în voia in-law, David Séchard, a
propriilor firi, să petreceți poet by feeling and
într-un dialog intim cu existence, but lacking
naturile voastre și să vă native talent, picturesque
lăsați fascinați de numeroasele necunoscute și spirit, with a bonhomie
întrebări ce vă vitalizează. Acolo, în leagănul sister with naivety. Balzac does not propose an
de fantasme, ați putea găsi un gol pe care analysis of plausible human archetypes, but
poezia nu promite să îl completeze în vreun simply takes them from his contemporary
fel, iar, în acel gol, se ascunde o poveste modernity and brings them before us by
neterminată. De aceea, puteți îmbrățișa golul, denying their identities of any artifice - and,
puteți să plonjați în el, să vă izbiți de valuri și why not believe it, the world of those times
să le escaladați crestele. Extenuați pe plaja de had many to offer in this sense! As today and
iluzii, clipiți măcar o dată pentru a regăsi cerul as always, since Homo Sapiens has risen to
care vă umanizează, vă admiră, vă trimite what it claims to be.
astrele ca pe cei mai dedicați martori ai poeziei If, for some readers, it appears as a
6
numite OM. Și, dacă nici atunci nu ați gustat o paradox that, in an editorial about poetry, we
fărâmă de eternitate, povestea poeziei voastre bring in the first paragraph the name of Balzac,
rămâne departe de a se fi încheiat. this exponent of modern prose, they will also
allow us a little detail. Many of the great prose
writers of universal literature began with
poetic attempts, the verse being considered a understand nor will ever agree with. You can
prerogative of youth, to later find out the hardly hope to write poetry in iambic
vocation of their own lyricism in monumental pentameter just because someone says that
works in prose. An example pleasing to the this type of verse belongs to English literature!
heart of the author of these lines is Caragiale You hardly want to build amphibras and
himself, who, in a moment of precarious anaphs just because someone else, before you,
inspiration, we believe, ironized the poetry did it – and with what skill! My dear ones, take
right in front of his best friend, none other Eminescu! He abounds in iambic pentameters
than Eminescu. If you read Caragiale's lyrics, (Our young ones), amphibras (Mortua est!)
you will easily understand our point of view. and ventured into the game of prosody to the
So where goes Poetry? Like a clergyman point that he returned to the popular verse to
who, being asked where God is in times of offer us The Vesper. He wrote the Epigones,
world hardship, we will give the same answer: then Memento mori and, later, the Letters
where it has always been. Of course, the following a prosody easily found in Pasoptists
redundancy that emerges such as Ion Heliade
from this seemingly Rădulescu (The Flyer) or
evasive sentence, Grigore Alexandrescu
provokes some (Mircea's Shadow. At
frustrations in the poetic Cozia), but not only there,
question, so we will but in the literature of the
continue to appeal to the Latin classics such as
reader, assuring him of Virgil, Horace, Juvenal
our concern, if not and Ovid! How do you
complete, at least think you're writing
satisfactory on the poetry since you're
lyricism itself. For Poesis avoiding so-called
does not only mean templates? You met
versification! Lyrics were also written at the Esenin's trochaic pentameter and you
Moulin Rouge, and were even enjoyed with discover that, about eighty years after his
enormous breadth. Poesis resides wherever it death, you wrote something in the same
identifies itself in ethos, in tradition, taking its prosody and suspect yourself of plagiarism?
eponym after the spiritual continent of the Well, if you look after every cloud, you never
sentient. And yet, however, many verses are go on the road again!
written, without them being poetry, without Lasciateʼogni speranza, voi chʼintrate
containing the core of the lyrical substance, (also iambic pentameter, to which is added a
without emanating even the faintest thrill of sublimated counteriamb in the last syllable of
life - and this is a consequence of the fear of the verse, an effect of perplexity)! One more
prosody, of the tendency of alignment with thing: from Baudelaire onwards, a smart man
customs proposed and imposed by... some woke up to say that the Flowers of Evil gave
7
non-poets! birth to modern poetry. Well, if Baudelaire

On the other hand, there are the timid himself had heard this nonsense, he would
ones, the undecided, that is, those who seek at have hit the hypocrite in the eye! Or, a little
all costs to meet standards that they neither more delicately, he would have turned to
Voltaire's Candid and the many versions of modernism and where? From the Primitive
Thamus' birth to see samples of modern Commune?! From the marble of the Romanian
literature! But when was there anything Senate?! From the starry flag of Europe?! Or
modern in the pathetic history of Homo from Lincoln's little finger sitting on the
Sapiens? Would Dante Aligheri have written throne?! And, to give credit (with the same
the Divine Comedy if he had believed that the pleasure!) to Eminescu, do these "finger-
modernity of mankind would be established sucked" theories mean modernism?! Those
only after Baudelaire? Would he have who do not understand that poetry is modern
dreamed of a meeting with Virgil in Hell and in its eternity, that it always resides in the
Beatrix in Paradise if modernism, superstructured area of thought and
postmodernism, and neomodernism still did aesthetics, well, those are devoted (may our
not have fingers knocking at the gates of the expression be forgiven) to literary
world? How could the sad Ovid prostitution. When the soul becomes
metamorphose into a land of the Getae who overflowing with anguish, it either falls down
laughed mockingly at his or spreads its wings and
Latin speech? bursts out of the croup of
Modernity?! No, the conventional. We
gentlemen! Lyric. The alone create walls around
dear and oropsite lyric! us and we will be alone in
Modernity is the dejection the chore of tearing them
of a heterogeneous down. Ultimately, our
thought that, under the twin spirits are beyond
guise of liberalism, invites those barricades and will
the spirit to suppress its not join us until we are
individuality through ready to receive them.
access to the easy gates of Thus, this world full of
false democracies. By precarious simulations
blurring itself, the spirit no longer stands out will no longer be foreign to itself, for it is a
from the crowd, but self-generates in the matter of nature to know Purgatory before
standard of an infinite number of mirrors, Paradise.
unable to discern the self from others and the The commotion of the spirit condensed
multitude of diversity. in the splendors of aesthetics crystallizes the
The righteous point of the feeling has no aspirations of reason, and the poetic
relevance in relation to the patterns proposed expression elevates the human being in the
by the false liberties! In the contagious theory etheric sphere without risking angering the
of "modernism" (read "pseudomodernism"!), gods of the arts. It's just that causal
the valences converge to the same detachment requires an exaltation of the
heterogeneous perimeter, in which critical frame of reference in geometric
8
standardized thoughts convey nonsense with progression through the intense cultivation of
axiomatic value, in which freedom is reduced this spirit. Of course, we must not confuse this
to the pattern of a reality constructed by the enterprise with the devaluation of the factor
interference of precepts brought with the substance, matter, because this would lead to
wheelbarrow before the mouth. So what the crippling of the spirit by depriving it of the
engine that generates contemplation. Matter, common feelings, thus proving its transitive
once passed through the kaleidoscope of motive. Perhaps that is why the collective
aesthetic perspective, is abstracted, becomes mind gives majority credit to prose, altering
an idea and, therefore, enters the etheric state, the personality of poetry by focusing on short
and the concrete remains the fixed extension prose as an effect of the tendency to
of a symbol. This is how poetry behaves, this immediately satisfy some needs under
narcotic that calms the daily weanings, intellectual generic. It is true that the rhythm
arouses erotic frenzy by transposing the ego of life involves unpredictable cadences, that
into the voluptuous upground of the planet man measures his reason of being on the scale
Venus and unleashes the thought of the of chance, and he realized that drama brings
rigidity of reason by animating lyrical him closer or further away from other people
pulsions. just as happiness does. That is why Nietzsche's
"The burning will of creation always "hammer" approaches the "stone" and poetry
brings me to man, in the same way that the is close to the spirit.
hammer is driven to the If someone had
stone" – wrote Nietzsche asked me what
about his monumental conclusions I would draw
work "Thus spoke from this editorial, I
Zarathustra". I do not would have once been
think that there is a more tempted to answer that
skilful synthesis in the there are no pertinent
universal literature of the and exhaustive
creator's purpose, since it conclusions about poetry.
combats the theory of My dear ones, I would try,
forms in order to release however, an exercise of
the fund. And what else is imagination and I would
poetry if not a invite you to abandon
manifestation of the pure, original yourselves to your own nature, to spend in an
background, disavowed by the restrictions intimate dialogue with your natures and to be
that the conventional deceptively wears? To fascinated by the many unknowns and
believe that poetry faithfully mirrors the inner questions that vitalize you. There, in a cradle
structure, that is, the background of the of fantasies, you might find a void that poetry
creator, is sometimes a deplorable deception. does not promise to fill in any way, and in that
However, the reader feels the atavistic alliance void lies an unfinished story. Therefore, you
of reunion that resides in the sap of the verse. can embrace the void, you can dive into it, hit
Therefore, in order for a poem to ensure its the waves and climb their ridges. Exhausted
perpetuation, the author needs to reach on the beach of illusions, blink at least once to
numerous desideratums from which we will find the sky that humanizes you, admires you,
mention the plausibility and richness of sends you the stars as the most dedicated
9
vocabulary. The purpose of any plausible witnesses of poetry called HUMAN. And, even
lyrical creation is, most of the time, reflexive- if you haven't tasted a shred of eternity even
subjective, but this does not prevent it, as the then, the story of your poetry is far from over.
literary tradition shows us, from mirroring
poetry 5-24
Gerlinde Staffler Adam Żemojtel
Sleepless mind Pysznych myśli słowa
Thoughts are wandering in turbulent streams rozlałaś słodyczy eliksir na skórze

Many a blinking spot in my brain beams ciekawskim oczom skleiłaś powieki
I can’t catch all these naughty fireflies ty tylko wiesz na co przy tobie zasłużę
They flow through me opening my eyes nagość zanurzając do miłosnej rzeki
Thoughts leave me never alone mgłą tajemnych uczuć przesłaniasz krajobraz

nie pozwalasz myślom mym dociekać prawdy
They’re present twice like a clone
rozkosz mą wyłaniasz swym ciałem raz po raz
Roaming my woods in swarm of ideas
nie czekasz na powrót zasłużonej karmy
In numerous queries,
worries and plans wzniecony płomień
szybko się rozrasta
Thoughts are sprouting jak miłość wzbudzona do
like plants entej potęgi
Or like a range of hills of wilgoć taka słodka klei się
ants i mlaska
My head beats like a swym śladem różowe
battle drum kreśli dreszczy wstęgi
Leaving me so as I forget
pocałunkiem dławisz
my name
słów moich potoki
w szczerym mym zachwycie obawiasz się
Thoughts glide through my mind
kłamstwa
Thoughts wrench from the heart unkind w spocone tak włosy wkręcasz swoje loki
They talk to me without strain pochłaniasz istnienie w nadziei poddaństwa
Of joy, fear, anger and pain
opóźniasz celowo mej eksplozji chwilę
Unceasing thoughts fall asleep podsycasz ogień i znów go uciszasz
Then in weird dreams they always creep zabierasz z ust wrzącą od miłości ślinę
And fly with me all the night w ciemności tajemny powodujesz miraż
But nothing can I do for their might
dusze chcą ulecieć z naczyń połączonych
10
krew znów rozżarzona i to do białości

plączą się akordy serc nieposkromionych
rozkosz znów przygasa bynajmniej nie w
złości

wreszcie się wyzwala burza z piorunami Do I need

nie ma takiej siły by orgazm powstrzymać Any education
rozbłyski się łączą z wielkimi grzmotami
To love all
wzburzonej rozkoszy nie da się zatrzymać
With humanistic passion
zastygają chłodem miłosne potoki And loving
serc obu symfonia spokojem przycicha Unconditional compassion ?
kwiaty umęczone spijają swe soki
miłość znów gorąca spływa do kielicha Do I need
Bhagirath Choudhary Any mysticism
Of a great Shaman
Human Poverty
To be good human
With loving humanism ?
Do I need
Any religion
I have already
To keep
All what I need
A kind eye
For benevolent
And loving vision ?
Thought, word and deed
Do I need
I have already
Any big talks
All the potential
To think
And humanistic worth
Universally benevolent
To create heaven
Kind thoughts ?
Here upon earth
Do I need
But I behave
Fine linguistics
Like a frog in a well
To speak
Every moment
Kind and caring words
I create a sinful hell
Without selfish tricks ?
With my sadistic creed
Of evil thought,
Do I need
With cunning word
Any philosophy
11
And selfish deed.

To treat
One and all
With empathy ?

Adam Decowski Prince Steve Oyebode
Wędrówka The power of love
[Journey] We thought it was but a mere oath

When we both sworn an allegiance
nad moim That nothing shall in anyway separate us
a może i nad twoim snem Not even the ugly moments of
ten sam lęk ill health
drąży labirynty cieni Or the dangerous time of austerity
które zatrzasną się szczelnie Even period of unanswered prayers
gdy zostaniemy odcięci na zawsze We never knew we were both wrong
od światła When our emotions overwhelmed us
któregoś dnia
przystajemy nagle w tym Now that the ugly visitor
pośpiesznym marszu of death beckons at me
oglądamy się Whispering to me about
wołamy my very last moment
nie ma jednego z nas To separate and do us
jeszcze słyszymy gasnące part till eternity
kroki My consolation is that you
chwytamy w dłonie shall outlive me
popiół jego słów Even now that I believed
i nie możemy uwierzyć you have the liberty
że nie poda nam ręki I mean the freedom to
nie ogrzeje choose another man
klamki naszego domu The more I realize I’m fast leaving this world
i nie potrafimy wypełnić Surprisingly, the clearer I see we’re both
blizny powietrza leaving
po nim
a nasza wędrówka nadal trwa This undemystified magnet has glued us
jej dni Right from the hour we made the promise
słońca wahadło odmierza That wherever I go thou shall also go
aż kiedyś nieruchome That my people shall be yours and vice versa
zawęźli nasz czas That my life shall always be your life
i opadający liść serca And that your death shall also be mine
12
ostatnim uderzeniem Now I know the nitty gritty of oath

w ciemność ziemi That we both made under the mango tree
zapuka

Selma Kopic
Waiting for midnight Čekajući ponoć
It wasn't a night like any other, To nije bila noć kao sve druge,
it was a night of hope for better days. bila je to noć nade u bolje dane.
In the circle of family and friends U krugu porodice i prijatelja
or alone in their homes, ili usamljenički u svojim kućama,
everyone could hardly wait svi su jedva čekali
for the year that was so bad to pass. da prođe godina koja je bila tako loša.
Sparks of fireworks shone over the city Nad gradom su svijetlile iskre vatrometa
when I heard your voice. kad sam čula tvoj glas.
You sing about longing for your darling Pjevaš o čežnji za svojom dragom
as you drive on the dok voziš se pustim
deserted icy roads zaleđenim cestama
of the north! sjevera.
You call her to come Zoveš je da dođe i rukom
and run her hand through ti kroz kosu prođe.
your hair. Zapekoše suze u mojim
Tears burn in my eyes like očima kao iglice.
needles. Jesam li ja ta draga koju
Am I that darling you call stihovima zoveš?
with verses? Izgubljena nada zagrija
The lost hope warms my moje srce
heart koje ludo poče da kuca,
which begins to beat madly, zatim zaboli kao da će
then hurts as if it will stop. stat.
This night brought joy to many, Ova noć donijela je mnogima radost,
I know those to whom it caused sorrow znam i one kojima je prouzročila tugu
because accidents happen jer nesreće se događaju i u najljepšim
even on the most beautiful occasions. prigodama.
It brought me you and your love song Meni je donijela tebe i tvoju ljubavnu pjesmu
about a distant darling you call into an embrace. o dalekoj dragoj koju zoveš u zagrljaj.
I feel every word, Osjećam svaku riječ,
they tap on my wounded heart like a sword. one tapkaju po mom ranjenom srcu kao mač.
But I love that pain, Ali ja taj bol volim,
it makes me feel alive again. čini da se ponovo živom osjetim.
13
“I am the one he longs for’’, I whispered „Ja sam ta za kojom čezne’’, nijemo sam
silently šaputala
as I sank into a sweet sleep, quietly. dok sam tiho u slatki san tonula.
Shaswata Gangopadhyay
Emergency
Two Poems
Under some manholes of streets in Kolkata, a
Circus few adolescent girls,
as innocent as cherry flowers, are kept
Now this time a tent is pitched, wet grass at the confined. At midnight my sleep
southern field fades away suddenly and I listen to the wailing
Hand-clapping of clowns, hair-raising shifting groans they make being
movement suffocated. As if from all sides the river-banks
Of trapeze tricks in darkness, we sit spell- are slipping away over the
bound flood-water with flashing sounds. A day will
There're scantily dressed girls standing on the come when I won't meet anyone,
hunches of camels known to me earlier. Only we will exchange
And keeping the balance, handshakes among us
reminds us that world is through
globular hand gloves only, one
Three white cockatoos go after the other. One day,
away riding on cycles all the words will desert
But as soon as they me,
depart, the interval bell leaving me all alone.
rings Perhaps a line or two in
poetry, in spite of their
After the recess comes a trying
funny magician in to reach very near to each
overcoat other, will not find a
Ah! how he swallowed up a good number of parking-space in the clumsy
multi-colored fish jottings of my diary.
The scene changes in an instant, there's Translated by: Rajdeep Mukherjee
throbbing in the heart,
Shaswata Gangopadhyay
The bike rotates round in the enclosure at a
break-neck speed
One of Prominent faces of contemporary Bengali
If it slips from the orbit, will there be any fiery poetry, who started writing in the mid 90s. Born &
explosion? brought up in Kolkata, Shaswata has profound interest
There's an announcement in the mike: tighten in travelling, adventure and classical music.
up your seat-belt His poetry has been highly appreciated among

other fellow poets for its colorful and rich content.
The last item in the breathless arena, the
14
His book of poems: Inhabitant of Pluto Planet

intercourses of tigers (2001) Offspring of Monster (2009) and Holes of Red
Crabs (2015). Very recently one of his poems has been
exhibited in a Short Poetry Festival in Piccolo Museo
della Poesia, Italy – the only Poetry Museum of the
world.
SIR SILVANO BORTOLAZZI
"Sono" "I'm"
Detesto le lotterie, poiché non amo vincere: I hate lotteries, as I don't like winning:
non potrei rinunciare al mio piccolo mondo I couldn't give up my little world of loving
d'amorevoli sogni. dreams.
Non cerco il potere, poiché non voglio I don't seek power, as I don't want to subdue:
sottomettere: it is inconceivable to command and intimidate
è inconcepibile comandare ed intimorire i the righteous.
giusti.
I want to be, I don't want to have:
Voglio essere, non voglio avere: so as not to hate me,
per non detestarmi, to be free from myself
per essere libero da me and others:
stesso e dagli altri: to be respected as a man.
per essere rispettato
come uomo. I take my cross of
poverty,
Prendo la mia croce di I accept the humiliations
povertà, of the enriched
accetto le umiliazioni who were once brothers
degli arricchiti to me:
che un tempo mi furono I thank them for their
fratelli: stupid indifference.
li ringrazio per la loro
stupida indifferenza. I live in the silence of
prayer,
Vivo nel silenzio della preghiera, in my exile as a poet enclosed within four
nel mio esilio di poeta richiuso tra quattro walls.
mura.
I speak to God:
Parlo con Dio: they all lose.
perdono tutti.
Desiring is not my concept
Desiderare non è un mio concetto but I take the pleasures of life:
ma colgo i piaceri della vita: they can lead me to understanding
possono condurmi verso la comprensione of the extreme limits of wisdom.
degli estremi limiti della saggezza.
15
I am,
Io Sono, everything everyone wants to have
tutto quello che tutti vogliono avere believing to be.
credendo d'essere.

Janamenjoy Ghorai Naba Kumar Podder
„”Grammar of Life” A Tale of Coloured Pent

Blazing in conflict with the rhythm of the
current of life (Translator -Shikdar Mohammed kibriah)
In the triad bed of prepositional prepositions
Again the vowel rises and sets
At the end nobody has to be detached
I walked the path of wonder for no reason
The grammar of life, Nobody is only beloved as the colour
Maybe in the cosmic beauty of the colorless Of monochord
alphabet lifestyle at the touch of a coyote
Adjective adjectives come selectively
This tattoo time is strange too!
Where there is a juncture of life,
Floating caught the magic world
Beautiful metallic form of Is everything written in
sound
script?
Repeatedly in the
innumerable
complications of the Can everything rush to
smooth mouth the utmost
The grammar of life at the
Of piano---
end of the full taste of the
verb sampika
Happiness ends in the Violin and pipe are not
silence of sorrow similar
Comma maybe wonderful
silent beard, Yet in a word they are
Rather it leaves the white- artistic
black burning house of life grammar side by They are fragrant Antiseptic.
side.
Ruki Kočan Enemy doesn't test who is real
Evo svjetlosti Or who is fake in the war.
Ljubavi, Iskro Života.
Probudi Svijet Mira. What's need to react from the out?
Neka ode zlo, i mržnja.
Mrak, užas i zabluda.
Come to a fuss-
Evo, evo svima Svjetlosti.
Idi, - ma brišite gluposti. Pour some romance in this
16
Pohlepa i bolest, Bay of Bengal.

haos - ljubomora i trač.
Idi - idi nepismena smrti.
Evo sreće, i Ljubavi...
Evo, evo - Svjetlosti.
Ramesh Chandra Pradhani Often I guessed how you created opportunity

to meet me
Something remained untold Fear and shameness battled my mind being
gloomy.
Dared not to talk to you in inevitable fright
Far away from the world of love being highly
Dare not to touch you though chance to invite
immature
The day when I came to know you fell in love
Couldn't perceive your body language due to
It was high time to taste the fruits of joyous
childish nature
love.
Couldn't really comprehend you, that alluring
I wish the day would come back with a last
smile
chance
You were not remaining aloof from me even
Had not at all lost that joy of divine romance.
a while
Your posture seemed me the sparkling angel Jigme Jamtsho
of heaven so merry
Your gait in front of me Windows of
assumed the dance of winter
celestial fairies
Your presence in the Gazing warm rays of
bathing ghats as if beautiful sun
coincidental Touches my cheek
Thy appearance again through the window
and again beyond my Amid to the drowsy
imagination oriental morning without fun
Sitting like a child in the Listening to Robin from
group before me stole my the far meadow
attraction
But never did I bother or take to my mind's Resting on the soft and clumsy pillow
calculation Vapours from the coffee cup waving hi
Your eyes gazing at me haunted sometimes I felt My half opened eyes gazed from below
The hidden desire inside you nearing me seen And the sip of coffee refresh me to glorify
myself melt
In the wee hours often your body dashed Activeness pushed me outside to refresh
against me Feeling the chill sensation of the breeze
Myself ashamed of it and strived to keep me And soothing scent of nature that bless
distant The winter numb me speechless to freeze
The rapport between you and me made me
ignorant Through the windows of winter season
17
Days after days passed away leaving I can see the mountains fully with snow
something untold Even the streams flowing with the reason
That puzzled, disturbed, suffered and deferred Every second of life matters as we know
me bold.
AD Ibrahim Timothy Michael DiVito
My nubian princess "A One Way Train"
How tan is she! It's time to leave now,

kissed by warmth the train departs shortly.
of the sun's rays Westward dream bound
skin dripping melanin
into an unknown world,
Her hips invites you across the desert of time.

Her kinky hair a golden
crown of mother earth Just sweet memories now,
Her skin tone a badge of honor a love once shared happily.
Her lips sweeter than red Now abruptly shattered
wine
like glass of the human
Her obsidian skin soul,

softer than fur all aboard the train of life.
a beam to African
Kings and heroes I gave to you my one
heart,
A microcosm of the
now I travel the world
universe
hips swaying in self love alone
as I dance to the afro on an optimistic train
drum of life track,
Milka J.Šolaja leading me to new memories,
visions of madness forgotten.
Bljesak bjeline
Da li to pada snijeg Tracks leading to new dreams
ili pahulje lete, far down the line of existence,
u očima bljesak to unknown opportune towns.
bjeline.
But a true adventure of life
Sivilo nestade u trenu,
leading to brighter horizons.
jecaj me prenu...
Djetinjstvo me probudi
18
na Ličkom putu
u starom kaputu,
kroz snijeg gazim
sretna.
Velimir Siljanoski Cilenti Emanuele
Početak! The poet of the clouds.
Početak našeg stradanja I wrote you

polako se svima otkriva this love letter
mi sigurno gubimo bitku I didn't use the usual words
još nije kasno da tražimo priliku I made a miracle
on the blue sheet of infinity
Posle toliko godina splashing magic ink
mi smo naraštaj koji plaća cenu made of clouds
sve što se danas dešava u svetu and I composed
postoji način opet naći se na svetlu this tender lyric
a pure white writing
Neko je zbog nas život dao that tastes like rain
kako bi nas od greha but also of snow,
okupao a poet in the clouds
dao nam je i odeću čistu just to reveal
a mi bez časti izgubismo to the whole world
bitku my eternal and celestial
love for you.
Još nije kasno braćo i Dijana Uherek
sestre Stevanović,
da se pokajemo svi za
svoje grehe Pervasion
nastavimo tamo gde su
pre nas stali In the treetops,
molimo se milostivom Bogu da se sažali I hid the sun,
to remind me of you.
Da nam opet u pomoć dođe Do not worry,
donese pobedu i da slobode I'll set him free
jer sami smo slabi i grešimo for I would not hold you captive either.
jedni druge mi ne znamo da utešimo My thoughts are free,
like this passing day,
Vrati se silo nebeska jaka like the year 2020 that is disappearing,
oteraj ovaj strah iz stomaka as well as the life that passes.
vrati životu veru i blagostanje
19
Look at us,
u svima nama postoji u Gospoda verovanje we are like day and night,
we are entangled in time.
We are the sun, the source of life.

Mahanaj Parvin to be able to include them

Remember me
Title name: "Love Stars" Clouds are my calling
When he shakes, I stretch out my arms to the
sky and smile at you.
That night knows, that star knows,
The sky knows, the moon knows, Stefano Capasso
How I love you!
Today my heart dances like a peacock! That Wonderful Time will it
I have written your name on each star. ever come back?
Honeymoon will be in the light of the stars!
The stars in the sky cannot be finished, Look far beyond
My love can't end the Horizon
I will fill you with romantic stories. and see nothing,
Rupoli moon is smiling, if not ghosts
The star is shining chasing each other
brightly, . in a mad rush
I just love you! against time,
Grasshoppers and it's really sad.
butterflies are playing at
the tip of my eyes! There are shadows
The garden of the mind that dissolve
smells of fragrant instantly
flowers! only to appear,
I will decorate you with like snow clouds
the seven colors of the while others,
rainbow! suddenly,
I will talk to those twinkling stars in the sky- fill the scene
Love only you! of tender memories
Lenuș Lungu of the past,
when
Watch the sun go down in the everything and everything
it was truly wonderful.
night cup
But that wanderful time
this is how loneliness descends in my soul…
will it ever come back?
your steps, vain hopes bound in a chain,
where in the course of time a secret clings
20
Eyes now tired

behind your words
makes it clear, that anyway
there are two lips that give life
those already passed
the muffled mixture between the rows.
they really stay
put your hands next to you
extraordinary memories.
Adeyemi Kehinde A. Oluwanishola Even before now and ever after

This words melt her heart and brought tears
of apologizy
If i have not told you
If I have not told you She knelt before him and pleased
You wouldn't have believed me He raised her up with smile and love
Seeing the temperature of your eyes Embracing each other once again
As it rained snow of anger and bitterness If I have not told you this neither would you
believe me
I could feel the heaviness of the rain in your eyes Mayokun Kehinde Folorunsho
Knowing fully well you yourself don't care to
raise your voice at me
Despite how much I tried to caution and
Unbecoming
parcify you And now sleepwalkers in beheaded dreams
You never listened but crucified my heart We have dreamed with a heart
before them all Unwashed as a madman
Around the bonfire of
The dilemma to this ethnic offerings
equation was nothing but Blazing in bloody heat
a setup
I could hardly look into In those forgotten
your eyes than to gaze my centuries
words Holy blades split
My eyes are soaked of emirates' soul
tears showing the And what will our myopic
sobriety of my heart eyes see
Yet not a chance to at least When we have tagged our
prove myself right countrymen with battle
scars
You wouldn't have trusted me Inscribed by the thirst of emperors
If not that I say whatever will be will surely be That paced our homeland for many decades?
I accepted fate when the clamouring was much
You've forgotten how you triggered my heart Down this path flooded with rage
We have been the draughtsman
Yet I never picked offense nor judge you for Of what we wish we were
who you are Which seems the anthem for another age
I gave you second chance which leads to a We have sacrificed Biafra's skulls
billion times
I'm me! If only you could listen to what I have to say Yet born again into recurring waves
Bless God you came back to your senses but We now are a flickering lighthouse
21
the damage is done And the victory songs are

The anguish and wailing of sucklings
Everyone left with the crumbs of your attitude Brimming the trophies we brought home
displayed From voyages and nameless wars
Take no thought because I've forgiven you
Ion CUZUIOC Federaţiei Internaţionale a Jurnaliştilor.

Membru al Asociației Canadiene a Scriitorilor
Români. Membru al Academiei Româno-
S-a născut la 16 septembrie 1949 în
Australiană. Membru al Academiei Națiunii
familia intelectualilor Valentina şi Pavel
Române.
Cuzuioc din comuna Ţareuca, judeţul Orhei,
Republica Moldova. A absolvit Universitatea A editat peste 40 de cărţi de epigrame,
de Stat de Medicină şi Farmacie ,,N. aforisme, proză (romane, nuvele, poveşti şi
Testemiţanu”. Eminent al Ocrotirii Sănătăţii. povestiri pentru copii, schiţe umoristice),
Medic specialist Sănătatea Publică şi versuri lirice, poeme stil nipon, publicistică. În
Managementul Sanitar (categorie superioară). toţi aceşti ani publică cronici literare, eseuri,
Distins cu Ordinul ,,Gloria Muncii”și Medalia sfaturi medicale, articole ştiinţifico-populare.
„Nicolae Milescu Spătarul”, Titluri Onorifice: Selecţii din creaţia sa literară au fost incluse în
,,Ambasador al Păcii (ONU) și „Ambasador al peste 200 de antologii şi culegeri din România,
Culturii Păcii”(Asociația Europeană a Rusia, SUA, Austria, Australia, Franța, Canada,
Societății Civile) ; Coreea de Sud și
Distincţia ,,Coroana Muntenegru, Macedonia
Păcii”(ONU); Premiul etc.
Uniunii Scriitorilor din Poemele de sorginte
Moldova (2000), (2009), niponă (Haiku, Senryu și
Uniunii Ziariștilor Gogyohka) semnate de
Profesioniști din România Ion Cuzuioc au fost
(2014, 2015, 2016, 2017, traduse în limbile
2018, 2019), Premiul japoneză, engleză,
UNESCO şi numeroase franceză, rusă,
premii şi menţiuni la muntenegreană și
Saloane Internaționale de macedoniană, fiind
Carte, Concursuri și publicate în diverse
Festivaluri Literare Naţionale şi antologii, culegeri și reviste de profil de peste
Internaţionale. hotare. Ion Cuzuioc s-a învrednicit de peste
Cetăţean de Onoare al comunei Ţareuca, 100 de premii și mențiuni la Concursurile
Rezina, Orhei. Membru al Uniunii Săptămânale și Lunare de Haiku, Senryu și
Epigramiştilor, Uniunii Scriitorilor și Uniunii Gogyohka organizate de către Romanian
Ziariștilor Profesioniști din România. Membru Haiku, Lyrical flashes, Dincolo de retină,
al Uniunii Cineaştilor, Uniunii Umoriştilor, Gogyohka România, Gogyohka SUA etc.
Uniunii Epigramiștilor, Uniunii Jurnaliştilor şi Recent, scriitorul nostru român
Uniunii Scriitorilor din Moldova. Membru al basarabean, Ion Cuzuioc, care a participat la
Asociației Naționale a Oamenilor de Creație Concursurile Internaționale Literare
din Moldova. „Planetopia 2020” și „Literatopia 2020” din
22
Membru al Senatului Asociației Macedonia s-a învrednicit de premiile I la

Oamenilor de Știință, Cultură și Artă din secțiunea Aforisme și Haiku.
Moldova. Membru al Confederaţiei
Internaţionale a Cineaştilor, Membru al

*** Anna Maria Stępień
pădure în flăcări – Recepta

plânsul puiului de cuc Nie ma na ziemi chyba człowieka,
înecat în fum Co drogą gładką ciągle idzie, lato czy zima.
Tak jest i było od prawieków…
*** Troski, obawy, z czymś się zżyma
Czy mały on, czy duży jest…
Życiowy czeka go codziennie test.
lacul fără pește –
paznicul de serviciu
I nie ma na tej ziemi tego,
dus cu pluta Który szczęśliwy ze wszystkiego,
Co los przynosi z sobą w darze.
*** Wzloty, upadki, przygód bez liku
– tych złych i dobrych…
pe prispa casei – A na dodatek dorzuci
un scaun și o cârjă czasem
doar amintire Worek jak tęcza
wielobarwny
*** Pełen przepięknych o
szczęściu marzeń.
surpriza nopții – Gdy z tego sprawę sobie

soțul de la cazino zdasz,
în frunza Evei Receptę wtem na swe
bolączki gotową masz:
*** Jak radzić sobie, nawet
gdy
vreme toridă – Nie idzie po Twej myśli Ci,
Gdy nie po myśli Twojej jest,
căruțașul dormind
To co dookoła dziś Ciebie dzieje się.
la umbra cailor
W górę więc serce, przed siebie pierś,
*** Rękawy zakasz, siedzisz czy stoisz,
Do pracy umysł zaprzęgnij i ręce swoje.
de gardă la muzeu – I nie myśl, żeś jest sam, choć pewnie…
lângă stative motanul We dwoje lepiej, gdy druga para rąk,
torcând în voie Gdy głowy dwie,
Do pracy nad jaśniejszym jutrem
*** Już dziś z zapałem wezmą się…
23
W marzeń magiczną moc swych wierz,

pe ultimul drum – Bo przecież Ty sam najlepiej wiesz,
în urma sicriului Co w duszy Twojej tańczy, co w niej gra!
florile călcate Chyba, że wolisz, gdy to Ci podpowiadam ja…?

Muhammad Ishaq Abbasi
The Rape
Three days ago when the night spread it's fence.
The woman with her three children, was going from Lahore to Gujranwala by motorway,
after meeting her sister.
She belonged to a family that ate and drank.
Suddenly, her car ran out of petrol on the road near Gujarpura village.
It was one o'clock at night.
And the car stopped.
She was screaming and screaming for help.
Meanwhile, two beasts came and broke the glass of the car and started looting her.
The pen was trembling and the heart was coming to the mouth as I wrote the poem.
Heaven and earth were weeping at the cries of mothers and children.
The mother was holding her children in her arms along with her honor.
Sometimes she was calling to the East and sometimes to the West for help.
Everyone was enjoying their sleep.
The beasts dragged her and her children into a nearby forest.
The desolation of the forest was also weeping tears of blood.
The mother was beaten and raped in front of the children.
And left them there and fled.
Everyone needs to do their part to end this oppression.
Heaven is under mother's feet. And our society has tramped a mother underfoot.
24

Dušan Pejaković
Everything tends to be constructed that way,
that all shades of a wide range of colors
The law of causality are being repainted in one of the shades
of nonetheless then mechanical-worker gray.
Interpersonal correlation –
what a strenuous activity, The goal is to produce as many units of the
such a complicated dynamics. identical as possible,
to delete differences with one stroke of the
It mainly manifests itself: keyboard.
like this dual current of life’s force
running down the paths of our doings. And what is the only thing left for us, as an
option,
It’s much like the law of nature, being non-stop propagated every single day?
that proportional, inversed logic –
so called reciprocity of Adapt, learn to be like
action and reaction. others or simply
disappear.
Aftermath of all that
rationalizing
should be the sum of Short biography:
inputs
leading to a desirable Dušan Pejaković is a
outputs. student, volunteer, social
entrepreneur and author,
The whole world as my based in Podgorica,
Montenegro. A passionate
witness -
reader and nature lover.
that modality of Currently at the position of MA
computing and analyzing candidate at the Faculty of Political Science, University
in the real world - nowadays - is baseless. of Montenegro. Has been expressing himself through
written word from an early age. He writes and creates
A stampede of inequality and on a multilingual basis (languages of the Balkan
injustice peninsula area, English, Spanish, Italian) Published so
far in several books of poetry, culture magazines, as
well as via online platforms. In July 2020, he published
A stampede mainly formed out of: a book of English poetry “Unrest of lucidity” which can
misconceptions, misconstructions and poor be found on Amazon as well as other places Amazon
judgments - collaborates with. He also writes prose, primarily
is bulldozing all over the entity of individual embodied in the form of short stories, novellas and
essays. His second book of poetry, written in his native
being.
language (Eng. translation: “The silhouette of an
unfulfilled dream) has been published in November
25
The world machinery is pushing, irresistibly, 2020. He is currently working on a new project, which
a single amorphous template of conduct is underway, and it is a collection of stories.
and the richness of diversity of each
individuality -
it is washed away like dirt after heavy rain.
prose 25-30
Zoran Radosavljević
Spisateljica Biserka
Pompeja
Maslačak na planeti
Rukama krvavim od borbe sa njenim
Pokosila sam travu, provukla ruke kroz demonima sakupljao sam ostatke pepela te
grm lavande, sjela na klupicu i podigla noge na Pompeje u njoj..Vezuve moj..gasila te
crni kamen prošaran bijelim, kvarcnim žilama. prekrasna reka Sarno.. Bila je rodjena sa
vatrom u sebi. Čuvala je u dodirima i mislima,
Kroz napola zatvorene oči, zaklonjene i poklanjala malo po malo ljudima, sve dok joj
dugim trepavicama, opijena mirisima, iskra u oćima nije nestala.Nestala je toplina i
promatrala sam male oblačiće, ružičaste od dobrota koju je širila..Ljudi su je istrošili i
zalaska sunca. Baš kad sam pomislila kako bi ostavili.. Da joj ližem krvave očnjake posle
bilo divno da sjediš tu, kraj mene, ugledala sam životnih poraza, ona da me čuva od celog sveta
njega, moj mjesec, …Da vidamo rane jedno
veličanstven kao i uvijek, drugom..klesanjem joj
ali opet, večeras poseban. đavoli prošlosti želili
oduzeti dobrotu..borio
sam se koliko sam mogao
Tek sad sam otkrila
da sačuvam tu njenu
kamo nestaju svi oni
anđeosku lepotu … Meni
maslačci sa zelenih livada,
su godinama krvava
lebdjeli su oko mjeseca,
stopala, a i dalje istim
obasjani njegovim sjajem,
putevima moja duša
tvorili paučinastu
korača …idem njoj u
koprenu koja se omatala
susret da je čuvam dok
oko njega. Pružila sam
opet ne ojača…nemoj te
ruke, visoko, visoko, želim
da pomislite da tražim izgovor samo da bi
te dotaknuti.
lutao… Kad je Niče plakao, svet je ćutao…a ići
Odjednom, mjesec se zamutio, zatitrao, ću opet i opet iznova..čujem kako viću izađi iz
kao odsjaj u vodi. Osjetim dodir na obrazu i
zabluda i uđi u stvarnost, umrećeš od lažnih
rukom krenem očekujući tvoje prste. Ne snova Ne znaju oni da sam takav po rodjenju…
nalazim ih, samo kapljice na mom dlanu,
pred putokazima spuštam glavu, volim da
blješte kao dijamanti na mjesečevom sjaju. Još
idem po sopstvenom nahođenju ..kao i biljka
jedna noć spušta se na pokošenu travu i
kad sama od sebe baci svoje sopstveno seme…
usamljen moj lik na klupi.
džaba ste štedeli sve te tišine, reči, dodire i
pesme kad se pravi ljudi pojave u pogrešno
Oko mene, žamor života, u meni, samo vreme ..Jurim prema njoj danima i noćima..ne
26
neizdrživa čežnja koja gori na ovoj planeti. bole me padovi ali bi me boleo pad u njenim
oćima..potrudiću se da joj život ne bude samo
od plača…ostaću sa njom dok ne ojača..

Šahdo Bošnjak dnevnicu, a ni da mu kakav poslićak uradim.

Svi se stvrdli ko ćerpič. Sve sami škrtac, i
Iz moje neobjavljene zbirke priča: begovi, i age, i gazde, i skriveni kulaci... Sve
“tešanjske koke i druge priče” sami Čifut i cicija, ko da će sve na onaj svijet
ponijeti!
Banane A ovamo u sebi misli: “Ehej, ženice moja,
Safice moja slatka, ta, ko ne bi volio kupit’ i
Da li je Ahmetu pomogla Butra i hodža čizme malom, i jular kobili, i so, i kreč, i grablje,
Grbeša ili mu je pomoglo nešto drugo da eh, njih si zaboravila, a eno ih, sve istruhle i
progleda, tek on je ponovo uspostavio zupci poispadali, već li je ostao samo jedan što
harmoniju u braku, odlično se razumijevajući i liči na babin zub, a grablje na babinu vilicu? A
slažući sa svojom ženom Safom. Ama, hronična tek banane! Ih, što sam se uželio lijepih, žutih,
nestašica novca ponovo je zaprijetila da bi krušnih banana!” Ahmet je toliko volio banane
mogla ozbiljno ugroziti tu bračnu harmoniju i da kad ih se sjeti, duboko uzdahne od želje da
sreću. Žena postala ih ima, iza zuba mu poteče
nestrpljiva, potreba se bistra voda, a na usta
namnožilo, a para pocure sve same sline,
niotkud, a ona samo dok zamišlja njihov
zvoca, baš kao ljuta božanstveni okus. “Ženo,
nakostriješena kvočka: ženice mila, sve je to
– Znaš li ti, bolan, važno i potrebito, ali
čovo, da našem Ramici banane, banane... Banane
trebaju nove čizme, one su ti, bolan,
se poderale pa dijete naaajpotrebitije. Eto, šta
samo što ne hoda boso?! bi insan u životu bez
Vidiš li ti, bolan ne bio, da banana, haj, šta bi? Ovaj
se kobila nema za šta vezati jer joj je posve život bez njih ne bi vrijedio ni pet para. Ni pet
dotrajao jular, već sam ti govorila da u kući para!”
nemamo ni gram soli! A tek kako nam kuća A žena nije mogla znati o čemu Ahmet
izgleda iznutra a tako i spolja, ko ni u kog, pa tako često sanjari već pomisli kako on sjedeći
me stid naroda što je tak’a neokrečena, a ti u kući neće dočekati da mu neko dođe na noge
nećeš da kupiš kreča da je okrečimo. i zovne ga da mu šta uradi, pa pođe kroz selo
I tako svakog dana, probi mužu glavu pitajući imućnije seljane treba li im radnik za
neprestano zanovijetajući: te treba, Ahmo, muške ili ženske poslove. I našlo se nekoliko
ovo, te treba, Ahmo, ono... Kad mu njeni hanuma kojima je trebalo urediti ili okrečiti
prijekori prekipe, a on pokuša da smiri tenzije, kuću, oprati veš ili zasijati rasad u bašči.
snižavajući ton, nastojeći pritom da bude što Također, nekoliko imućnijih domaćina reče da
27
uvjerljiviji: im je potreban neko ko bi im pocijepao drva za

– Znam, ženo, znam. Sve ja to znam i ogrjev, zatim prevezao sijena iz polja za stočnu
vidim, ali šta vrijedi kad nemamo ni prebijene ishranu te iskrčio živice po njivama. Sva
pare u kući! Pa neće niko da zovne ni na radosna Safa se vrati kući, ispriča sve Ahmetu
i oni se u taj čas dadoše na posao. Radeći tako – Haj’ ba, Ahmo, ne benavi. Đe bih ja tebe
danima, zaradili su, Boga mi, finih parica, prijavila... Nego, nemoj sutra slučajno da bi
taman toliko koliko im je bilo potrebito za gledao one tamo tešanjske koke, one nacifrane
najnužnije stvari, i još malo da i pretekne u tešanjske frajle. Ehej, sve ću ja čuti, beli!
kućni budžet za crne dane ili za: ne daj, Bože, – E, gledat ću, dašta nego da ću gledat’. Pa
zlu ne trebalo! Usto su hanume, zadovoljne neću, valjda, hodati zavezanih očiju?! Il’ ćeš ti
čestito obavljenim poslom, još i darivale Safu: ić’ sa mnom pa me vodati kao slijepca, da nam
koja sapunom điritom, koja čankom se svijet smije.
kukuruznog brašna, koja s malo graha, a njoj, – Smiješ ti gledati ‘nako, preda se, da ne
bogme, zauhar, da se koji dan preživi, bi udario na drugog insana jal’ na hajvana, jal’
očekujući neka bolja vremena, a koja, nažalost, u banderu. Ali frajlice gledat’... E, to se ne igraj
nikako da dođu. živom glavom!
– E, sad se, čovo, ne možeš izmotavati Smjehuljeći se u sebi, Ahmo pomisli: “Sva
kako nemamo novca da bi kupio to što nam je sreća pa ti nećeš bit’ sa
najnužnije; nego, sutra je mnom, jer voli Ahmo
petak, put pod noge pa napariti oči na kakvoj
pravac u Tešanj, na pijacu. mladoj i lijepoj curi jal’
Jesi l’ zapamtio šta sam ti snaši nego večerati, samo
sve rekla da trebaš kupiti? ako li je večera bez
– Kako, bona, ne bih banana. Jer, banane,
zapamtio? Ta ponovila si banane... Ah, te čarobne
to makar sto puta! Ma, šta banane!“
sto, jesi, vala, i hiljadu Sajo je redovno
puta, i lud bi zapamtio petkom posjećivao
denali ne bih ja ‘vako tešanjsku pijacu, a Ahmo
pametan. Ko Tito. Uh, šta samo po potrebi i,
rekoh; nemoj, ženo, da neko za ovo sazna, ni za uglavnom, ako bi imao novca. Zato on ode kod
živu glavu. Uh, ne dao Bog, pa da zaglavim u Saje da se dogovore kako bi zajedno putovali,
prdekani. Jali na Golom otoku! Uh!... naravno, pješice, jer je mnogo ugodnije u
– Eh, moj Ahmo, jest da si pametan, al’ društvu negoli sam. Sajo je, kao i obično, ponio
malo si plaho prećerao. Da barem reče kao da proda malo mliječnih proizvoda: koji sir,
Ranković, il’ kao Đilas, de li, de li... Al’ đe’š rijet’ kajmaka, dvije-tri litre mlijeka..., dok je Ahmo
kao naš voljeni Tito?! Jerbo ‘nak’e pameti nosio korpu od pletenog pruća, napunjenu
nejma na dunjaluku. ‘Nak’og čojka majka više kokošijim jajima. Sajo priča o proljetnim
ne rađa! radovima, osobito o sjetvi kukuruza, i već su
– Jami ba, Safo, ne budali. I on prdi kao i na ulazu u Jelah, kad ti njega Ahmo prekide
28
svi mi, samo što je 'nako... malo previše izvikan pitanjem:

i napuhan da ga se neprijatelji boje, a da narod – Eto, Sajo, ti si ‘vako pametan, što bi se
prema njemu osjeća strahopoštovanje, kao reklo, svjetski čojk i znaš svašta. Reci mi je l’
prema kakvom božanstvu, eto sad, pa to ti je. istina da su banane zdrave, da su pune njakvih
A ti mene prijavi, ako ti nije žao. mintamina, tako kazuju dokturi, belćim?
– Dašta neg’ su zdrave, kao i svako voće. – Ma, ne, ne... Ja to samo ‘nako...
Nego, otkud ti sad to, mislim, da me pitaš to, za – A šta ‘š ti kupovat’? – upita Sajo.
banane?! – Aha... pa kupit ću uglavnom dosta
– Ma, nako ja nešto mislim. Slučajno mi banana i još tamo nekih sitnica.
naumpalo pa rekoh da pitam. Jaran ga ponovo pogleda začuđeno:
Kad su bili u Jevadžijama, prvom selu – Hm, sve se nema, sve se nema, a ‘vamo
nakon Jelaha, sustiže ih Meho Skrozo, kočijaš
se ima i za luksuz, moj dragi! A šta će tebi tolike
iz Drinčića, s konjskom zapregom. Prevozio je banane, ako nije tajna?
narod na pijacu, ali su zaprežna kola bila
– Ah, znaš kako ti je, teke se para
poluprazna te on zaustavi konje i pozva:
zaradilo, prodat ću i jaja pa da obradujem
– Bujrum, ljudi, u kola, da ne idete pješke. čeljad bananama. Valja kupiti Ramici, bezbeli i
Poznavajući dobro kočijaša, Ahmo i Sajo Safi, a malo, vala, i ja da se primrsim, radi reda.
povikaše skoro uglas: Sajo, ponovo ne shvatajući Ahmeta, samo
– Fala ti, Mehaga, zaklima glavom i zašutje.
nismo nešto pri parama! Silazili su niz Krndiju,
– Ama, ljudi, je l’ vas ulazeći u sami Tešanj, kad
neko pitao za pare? Meni Ahmet zamoli jarana:
je u Tešanj, s vama il’ bez – De, Sajo,
vas. A ne vozim ja kola već zahmetile, ako ja
konji. zaboravim, kad dođemo u
Bilo je rano jutro, Tešanj, napomeni me da
lijepo, vedro, proljetno. kupim banana, a ostalog
Početak aprila. Travica se ću se lahko sjetiti.
pogdjegdje zazelenjela, – Hoću, hoću,
ptičice se rascvrkutale i napomenut ću te... Pa zar
raspjevale, radujući se valjda lijepom danu i ne vidiš da si u Tešnju?! I kako ćeš zaboraviti
proljeću. Tad Sajo opet povede razgovor, ali kupiti banana kad ni o čemu drugom i ne
ovaj put o stočnoj ishrani i kako su sijena pričaš od kako smo ono krenuli od kuće?
skupa, a stoka, i napose telad, jako jeftina. Pošto su na pijaci rasprodali šta su
Ahmet uopće nije pratio šta mu rođak priča pa prodati imali, dva jarana krenuše da pokupuju
će ti, onako iznebuha, provaliti: što im treba pa da idu kući, opet pješke, jakako,
– Je l’ ba, Sajo, je l’ de da su majmuni ne bi li im tako u džepu ostao koji dinar.
onako zdravi, živahni i spretni što vole da jedu Šetajući gradom, naiđoše pored jedne
banane? prodavnice u čijem izlogu Ahmo ugleda lijepe
Jaran ga pogleda sumnjičavo i odvali, žute banane, žute kao ćilibar. Sav sretan reče
malo ljutito: rođaku:
29
– A što, ti bi, bezbeli, volio da postaneš – Stani, Boga ti, da svom Ramici kupim
majmun?! Pa jednom smo bili i nemoj, bogati, banana.
da se ponovo vraćamo na isto! I prije nego što je Sajo mogao bilo šta da

i prozbori, Ahmo se pomoli iz prodavnice banana, noga mu se pokliznu, a on se ispruži

zalažući se slatkim bananama. A kad su došli na kaldrmisanu podlogu koliki je dug. Cijela
do sljedeće prodavnice s mješovitom robom, pijaca se grohotom zatresla od smijeha, a njega
Ahmo je već bio pojeo sve banane. No, ništa za bilo stid ustati i svijetu pogledati u oči. Pa sve
to jer je i ta prodavnica imala finih banana, da da je i htio, nije mogao bez Sajine pomoći jer je
Ahmet pored soli kupi i kilogram banana. pao čelom na kamen i pritom zaradio čvorugu,
– Ovo za moju Safu – reče i tako krenuše gotovo kolika je šaka. Uz Sajinu pomoć nekako
prema pijaci. A usput je mislio: “Uh, da zna ustade, jaran mu maramicom obrisa krv, a
kako sam napario oči, gledajući tešanjske njemu se mantalo u glavi da je morao sjesti na
gospojice. Evo ih ko findžani. Neće me, vala, obližlju klupu, kako bi ponovo došao sebi. Za
zaboliti dok sam živ.” sve to vrijeme prodavači i mušterije nisu mu
se prestajali smijati, a u ušima su mu
Ali do pijace je bilo podaleko i Ahmo ne
odzvanjale njihove riječi, koje je slušao dok je
odolje bananama već ponovo stade jesti sve
bespomoćno ležao na kaldrmi: “Aferim,
jednu po jednu, misleći
ljudino!” “Ponovi, delijo!”
kako će još samo ovu
“Ustani, pa jope’!...” Čim se
pojesti i neće više te tako
malo oporavi, Ahmet
dođe i do zadnje. Onda
ustade pa praćen
pomisli kad je sve pojeo,
podrugljivim pogledima i
što bi i nju ostavljao. Na
smijehom kupi nesretne
kraju je nekako pojeo sve,
grablje, Rami čizmice,
a da to Sajo nije ni
kobili jular i kreč za
primijetio. I samo što su
osvježenje i uljepšavanje
stigli na pijacu, Ahmo
kuće. A kad pogleda u
ugleda najljepše banane,
novčanik, a on prazan.
koje je ikad vidio iako je
Onda zamoli Saju:
vjerovatno da mu se tako
samo učinilo. Odmah kupi pregršt banana, i to – Sajo, Boga ti, pozajmi mi jednu stoju.
koje je sam probrao, pa stade halapljivo da Vratit ću ti čim prije.
jede, baš kao da mu je danas prva. Na to Sajo – Pa eto, sve si pokupovao, i što će ti
primijeti: stoja?!
– A ti pojeo i Ramine i Safine banane, što – Hoću da ponesem Rami i Safi banana.
sad i te jedeš, što ne poneseš njima?! – A sebi, zar nećeš ponijeti i sebi?
– E, ono su bile njihove rede, a ovo je sad – Hoću! – reče ljutito. – Sebi ću ponijeti
moja reda, a ja svoju redu ne prepuštam ovu čvorugu na čelenjki, koju sam i zaslužio.
nikome. Otad je Ahmet zamrzio banane, baš kao
Dok je tako jeo banane, sve je kore bacao birvaktile ptice, dok je bio mali dječak. Nikad
30
preda se. Jedući zadnju, primijeti kako su kod više banane nije htio ni okusiti. A ako bi ih
jednog prodavca ostale posljednje grablje pa negdje ugledao, okretao bi glavu, gadeći ih se,
se uplaši da ih ko ne kupi i da tako ostane bez kao da je ugledao nečastivog, šejtana.
grabalja. Istog časa htjede da potrči, gledajući
samo u grablje, te ti tako stade na kore od
essay 31-35
albastrul ochilor tăi, Doamne…
Loreta Toader M-am înveșmântat în verdele renașterii
pe care mi l-ai oferit a doua oară.
În căutarea luminii Am început să alerg andante prin viață
percepând lumina în fiecare culoare a
Am fugit, am fugit cu toată ființa mea existenței sale: rece, caldă, neutră, difuză pe
încercând să-ajung gândurile din urmă. sufletul și gândurile mele ce țipau libertate…
Viața mă izbea biciuindu-mi sufletul. pictură – Alexandru Darida
Respirul mi-era spintecat de loviturile atâtor
Bill Stokes
cuvinte durute și neînțelese.
Alergam… alergam fără să aud, fără să
Drum
văd; nu mai simțeam, nu mai știam dacă mi-
era cald sau frig, nici de mi-era zi sau de mi-era
Life is the ultimate tapestry woven on a
noapte…picioarele nu mă mai ascultau iar
loom as the shuttle moves
mâinile, mâinile încercau
back and forth on the
să se agațe de acel ceva
warp leaving tiny bits of
încă nedefinit.
thrum
Doar ochii îmi
And the shuttle is
cercetau sufletul
the metronome of our life
întrebând: mai poți?!!!…
as it beats out both
N-am știut să cadence and rhythm and
răspund așa cum n-am is by far all of creation’s
știut câtă durere și câte most most exquisite
lacrimi am strâns în gând. drum.
Am obosit. M-am Thread by thread
oprit din alergat mergând the history of your life is
cu pași repezi spre niciunde. În mine ploaia își recorded by your soul’s shuttle
revărsa boabele-i de jad rescriind povestea
And at the end of your mortal journey
unei noi renașteri… am adormit pe iarba udă;
and standing at the bar of justice your warp’s
gândurile mi-au poposit pe verdele crud al
documentation with either gain you eternal
primăverii insuflându-mi tinerețea pierdută
glory or force you to into outer darkness with
cândva… inima a început să bată încet, liniștit
a wailing scuttle.
– zbuciumul ei a rămas undeva în trecut- un
trecut greu înțeles, aproape inuman – acum Just as there are no to souls exactly the
uitat. same The drum beat of your life is the the beat
of your heart that only the love of Christ can
Simt o căldură benefică- ploaia s-a oprit;
tame.
soarele îmi mângâie fața scăldată de lacrimi
iar curcubeul îmi pictează sufletul Both drums and hearts can have beats
31
regenerându-i sentimentele. both loud and soft as a baby’s cheek and when
your heart belongs to your eternal mate and
Am deschis ochii și m-am pierdut în
when their breath gently caresses your face
albastru – un albastru divin, imperial-
you truly can understand that heaven on earth
is the prize we all seek. Ryszard Mścisz

Life is the ultimate tapestry woven on
loom as the shuttle moves back and forth on Groza śnieżnej nocy
the warp leaving tiny bits of thrum and the
shuttle is the metronome of our life as it beats [Horror of the Snowy Night]
out both cadence and rhythm and is by far all
of creation’s most most exquisite drum.
Śnieg za oknami przystrajał krajobraz
Santosh Kumar-Bhutan świąteczną bielą. Ozdobionym puchem
gałęziom drzew widocznie nie było tak lekko,
Harmonythat never was skoro kłaniały się ziemi pokornie i czołobitnie.
Ja również nie czułem misternej lekkości
How keenly I feel to see, all are gone for ducha Święta Narodzin. Już tego nie czułem.
their family god, Never, even a lonely finger for
Wciskanie do oczu śnieżnego bałwana
pointing or boasting, In
węgielnych kamieni zdało
solidarity, they walk with
mi się torturą. A wesołe
the bannerof lofty
dzieci zdawały się mieć
mankind, No colors to see
and no races to protect diabelskie ogniki w
aside from harmony, oczach. Pomyśleć, że
Within, with common jeszcze wczoraj
goals of peace to emerge widziałbym to samo
all at once. zupełnie inaczej.
Now, the brilliant Wczoraj był taki
day draws near, I can see sam zimowy wieczór. Z
the striking sinking star, nostalgią zimy w
Simply over, the otulinach śniegu, lekkim
nightingale and the skylark join together, In przymrozkiem, który nie odstrasza i nie więzi
prospect, the falconer cheers, hearing the w ogrzanych domach, ale pozwala wejść w
peace train whistle, The melody of the upper otwartą księgę nocy w towarzystwie
waves, so joyful in tone, With hope, which has
rozgwieżdżonego nieba. Gdy wyszedłem z
never been with every lack of worry.
domu było tak spokojnie i cicho, na
opustoszałych ulicach tylko pojedyncze cienie
The cord of humanity, in the minds of przemykały w świetle latarni. Oddaliłem się
individuals, rested, All around thesquare, od ostatnich domów z oświetlonymi oknami,
recitingoneness being, No more conteni pt in wszedłem w mroczną tajemnicę drzew
sight, no more selfishness in feeling, All
oswojonych – zdawałoby się – jasnością
together, with divine ideas to paint the tomb,
śniegu. Wydawało mi się, że w braterskiej
32
Forever, to allow it to sparkle in harmony that

ciszy natury mogę być chwilę sam na sam ze
never was.
sobą. To tak rzadki w życiu luksus, cudowny
paradoks życia: wśród natury bywamy sobą,
wnikamy w siebie – wśród ludzi prowadzimy
grę, zakładamy maskę jak w antycznym przebić przez jakąś warstwę psychiki, która go
teatrze. Zdawałoby się, że każdego stać na ten blokowała. Przeczucie o istnieniu odpowiedzi,
luksus, chwile prawdy. A jednak łatwiej o odzewu na hasło, które ów głos z sobą niesie,
sukces, pozycję towarzyską, nawet materialny towarzyszyło mi bezustannie. Byłem o krok od
dobrobyt niż o nie. Czy jesteśmy zbyt zajęci, jasności. Bądź o krok za nią. To jakiś język, kod,
zaaferowani wypełnianiem schematu życia...? który prawie znałem, mogłem odkryć. Nie
A może boimy się owych odkryć samotności, wiedziałem, czy był mi znany w jakimś
prawdy o sobie, której wobec natury nie odległym kiedyś, czy może to pewien wariant
jesteśmy w stanie zakłamać... języka, który znam od zawsze...
Lekkie skrzypienie kroków, delikatny To zaczęło iść w moim kierunku.
trzask gałęzi wyrwał mnie z zadumy. A więc Tajemnica językowego szyfru przegrała z
nie jestem sam? No cóż, chwila samotności gwałtownym lękiem. Te nieskoordynowane
skończyła się – może moja samotność zbratała ruchy, kroki zdały mi się groźne, skierowane
się z samotnością innego przeciwko mnie – nie do
człowieka i przestała nią mnie. Próbowałem się
być. A może po prostu ruszyć. Raz, drugi... Ani
dana mi była tylko ta siła mięśni, ani siła woli
ulotna chwila w nie była mi posłuszna.
zbiorowej formie życia...? Strach rósł wraz z
Nagle ujrzałem cień, który malejącą odległością
ów hałas stworzył. Cień między mną a tym... Było
nie był imponująco coraz groźniejsze, coraz
wielki, ale zarazem bardziej odrażające – w
niepokojący nad wyraz. naszych ziemskich
Niepokojący, bo... kategoriach. Coraz
nieludzki. Zdawało mi się, bardziej odmienne od
że nieforemna, olbrzymia głowa wyrastająca z wszystkiego, co dotąd widziałem... mimo że
niewielkiego tułowia unieruchomiła mnie nie w pełni widoczne. Wreszcie udało się,
zupełnie. Odczułem intuicyjnie jakąś mogłem zrobić ruch, parę kroków... mogłem
przewagę intelektu, pozaczasowej mądrości, biec. Starałem się wykorzystać całą moją
która obezwładnia, odbiera rację bytu, szybkość; całą szybkość mięśni i strachu...
przytłacza... To coś ma wiele odnóg, kończyn, Dobiegłem do pierwszej zaspy śniegu i
a może macek, które gotowe mnie opleść i przesadziłem ją błyskawicznie. Coś
zgnieść w każdej chwili. Usłyszałem głos, podpowiadało mi, że nie mogę biec wprost
raczej dźwięk, który tajemnicza istota wydała. przed siebie, zwykłą drogą. Że muszę kluczyć,
Zdawał się rozbrzmiewać od wewnątrz, uskakiwać, byle przybliżać się do znajomych
33
wydobywać z mojej głowy. Być może nie miejsc, do domu. Nie mogłem się oglądać za
istniała żadna zewnętrzna postać głosu. Ale siebie. Nie potrafiłem. Czułem jednak to na
nie był na tyle wyraźny, bym był w stanie go pewno. To jest blisko, jest szybkie, bardzo
zrozumieć. A raczej nie mógł się od razu szybkie. Nie chciałem wiedzieć jak wygląda,

confabulation 36-46
choć światła wyłaniających się latarni
pozwoliłyby poznać część tajemnicy. Nie Lenuș Lungu
chciałem wzrokiem sprawdzić jak jest szybkie,
jak się porusza. Wiedziałem, czułem, że koszt Un grande poeta, critico
zetknięcia się z tajemnicą może być zbyt letterario, umanista di fama
wysoki. Byłem już bardzo blisko, ale i ono mondiale
powoli choć nieznacznie przybliżało się.
Chyba czułem ten poryw szybkości, Jawaz Jaffri è un poeta in cui scolpisce le
wzlatujący pod jego krokami śniegowy puch. sue creazioni in una montagna di parole e
veste la bellezza di una materia sensibile da
Jeszcze tylko kilkadziesiąt kroków,
cui emette i suoi sentimenti. L'idea del poeta
kilkanaście, kilka... Kiedy czułem zniewalający
ne illustra l'intensità e dà una forte risonanza
oddech owej istoty na plecach, dopadłem
dove dipinge le parole in un mare di colori
bramy, potem drzwi od domu. Zamknąłem presentando il quadro poetico. Attraverso le
drzwi za sobą, mocno sue opere ci dà molta
przytrzymałem i na sensibilità, amore,
chwilę przywarłem do sensazione di relax e pace.
nich. Rozejrzałem się z In un mondo di poesia
niepokojem po oknach, letteraria in cui la
ciemnych ścianach scrittura si muove
vertiginosamente verso i
mieszkania.
sentimenti, Jawaz rimane
Dopiero po autentico, un poeta che
godzinie zaświeciłem sceglie di esprimere stati
światło, usiadłem w attraverso le parole, ma le
fotelu. Cisza była zbyt emozioni continuano a
niepokojąca, pustka fiorire, idee per far
zdawała się krzyczeć we nascere idee. Leggendo i
testi di Jawaz, sono riusciti a farmi conoscere
mnie. Włączyłem telewizor. Chyba program
una vibrazione di metafore ed epiteti che
już się skończył, ale pozostał szum, tak
cercano di trasmettere il messaggio delle
potrzebny mi w tym momencie szum... Po parole. Riesce a catturare in modo sfumato
chwili jednak zdało mi się, że słyszę głos. Tak, l'universo invisibile degli stati d'animo. Offri ai
spoza niego wyraźnie dobiegał głos... Na tyle lettori versi che fanno vibrare le corde delle
wyraźnie... Nie, musiałem się przesłyszeć... A anime attraverso la penna ardente. Offre ai
jednak ciągle słyszę to samo. Ten głos. lettori un universo lirico pieno di simboli in
Podobny do tamtego, a przecież zrozumiały, uno stile unico, restituendo maestria alle
ludzki. persone. Non smette mai di stupire i lettori,
formando una simbiosi e un'armonia assoluta.
- Mogłem cię dogonić. Gdybym chciał,
34
Il classico si fonde con successo con le

dogoniłbym cię...! Ty wiesz o tym dobrze! caratteristiche della poesia moderna. Il lettore
viene così catturato nella rete di Jawaz che si
trasforma da autore nell'io di chi legge,
filtrando le sue idee, i suoi punti di vista,

prestando i suoi occhi a vedere il mondo come società, il rapporto tra scienza e letteratura, musica
lo vede l'autore. Resta da leggere la poesia e classica e altre arti visive. Ha una vasta collezione di
librerie di musica classica. Una considerevole biblioteca
ritrovarsi lì, tra i versi della poesia. La forma
di libri è disponibile nel suo studio, il che è evidente nel
dell'anima nel suo fulgido splendore, suo gusto letterario. Molte delle sue poesie sono state
sensazioni varie che accrescono il mistero tradotte dall'International Center for Poetry
della poesia e la tensione del vivere. Translation and Research, Cina. Scrive contro la guerra,
L'amore per la pace è il sentimento il suo libro "Mout Ka Haath Kalaie Per Hey" è stato
tradotto come "Il polso negli artigli della morte" da
edificante che si manifesta nel cuore di ogni
Muhammad Shanazar, poeta e traduttore pakistano. Le
uomo. Tutto è semplice e complesso, allo
poesie di questo libro sono anche tradotte in molte altre
stesso tempo naturale e deciso, sembra fluire principali lingue del mondo e anche nelle lingue locali
con naturalezza, ma l'occhio sensibile e la fine (Punjabi, Pashto, Sindhi e Hindko). Ha contribuito con
intuizione del poeta coglie la poesia altri libri di poesia contro la guerra in urdu intitolati
essenziale, come in uno stop-frame che cattura "Main Laam di Janj da Lahda han", che è stato tradotto
uno stato d'animo, un momento unico che da Harpreet Kaur e pubblicato in India da Nawi Dunia
Publishers, Punjab, India. Ha scritto articoli su celebrità
l'amore della pace, della luce lo chiama sempre
letterarie internazionali come
per regalare il suo piccolo Pablo Neruda, Toni Morrison,
recital di bellezza a chi T.S Eliot, Seamus Heaney, Jan-
vuole e può sentire questo Paul Sartre, Charles
splendore. Leggendo i Baudelaire, Tolstoy, Franz
testi del poeta, mi sono Kafka, Kinza Br O, Gabriela
ricordato dell'aforisma di Mistral, Salima Langrof, Harry
Sinclair e Lu Xun., Il grande
Tudor Arghezi: Il vero
scrittore della Cina classica è
libro di un poeta penso sia stato pubblicato sul quotidiano
uno, purché unico, perché Jang e Nawa-i-Waqt. Quasi 20
la definizione di un poeta libri sono al suo attivo come
che pubblica un buon scrittore, gli è stato conferito il
libro è in due parole: prestigioso Premio
talento ed energia. La Presidenziale del Pakistan
(The National Human Rights
poesia è percepita esattamente come viene
Award, 2016). Inoltre, il Presidential Award (National
mostrata, con tutta la trasparenza di un'anima. Human Rights Award, 2016) ha ricevuto il premio
È consapevole e comprende il rapporto Special Shield for Peace dal Ministero dei diritti umani
profondo e sacro che gli scrittori sviluppano 2017 (Pakistan), Quid-e-Azam Gold Medal (2015),
con la poesia, ma non nega il suo diritto di Asian Cultural Association Award (2017) , Harf
sperare che la bellezza debba essere Academy Awards (Quetta) e molti altri premi da tutti i
simposi inter-collegiali in Pakistan e concorsi di oratori
evidenziata.
durante il periodo accademico. È membro della
Pakistan Writers Guild, Pakistan, Pakistan Academy of
Il Dr. AZADAR HUSSAIN JAWAz (Pseudonimo Dr. Letters, Islamabad, Halqa-e-Arbab-e-Zauq, Pakistan,
Jawaz Jaffri) è nato a Toba Tek Singh (Punjab, Pakistan) Drama Scrutiny Committee, Punjab Arts Council,
l'8 aprile 1964. Ha conseguito il dottorato. in letteratura Lahore e Adabi Baithak, Lahore Arts Council, Lahore.
urdu presso l'Università del Punjab, Lahore, nel 2006. Era anche il presidente della Sherani Society, Govt.
35
Attualmente è professore presso Govt. Lahore College College, Sheikhupura, President of the Urdu Society,
of Science, era presidente del dipartimento di urdu al Oriental College, Lahore, Honorary Editor Husn-e-Byan
Govt. MAO College, Lahore. Ha un profondo interesse Monthly Quarterly Magazine, Karachi and Honorary
per la scrittura creativa, la critica, la poesia, la scrittura Editor Monthly Magazine G News, Great Gran Bretagna.
drammatica, la scrittura di colonne, lo studio comparato Le sue opere principali consistono in poesia, Dehleez pe
delle religioni, le prospettive storiche e culturali della Aankhain, Muthi Mein Tera Wada Khawab, Maut ka
Hath Kalai par Hai, Mohabat khasara naheen, Umr-e- Jawaz Jaffri
Rawan sey parey, Wrist in the Clutches of Death, Mera
Dil Fakhta da Ahlna ay, Main Laam di Janj da Lardha han,
Vasal say Khali Din, Mutbadil Dunia ka Khawb, Dal dottor
Chiraghon se Bhari Galliyan, Asaan Sufny Sahvey rakhey
e Ik Hijr Jo Ham Ko Lahaq Hai (Lettere) che sono
Il mio cuore è il nido di colomba
ampiamente lette dagli amanti della poesia. I suoi
documenti di ricerca includono Urdu Adab Europe Aur
America Mein, Iqbal Sajid Bataur Ghazal Go, Urdu Adab Il vento,
Europe Aur America Mein, Urdu ki Qadeem Bastian, Venendo dal campo di battaglia,
Khaak se Uthny wala Fun, Urdu afsaane ka Maghribi Si riversa nelle mie orecchie,
Dareecha, Urdu Ghazal ka Maghrabi Daricha, Il nitrito dei cavalli.
Tassawarat, ( Tehqiqi gold Tanqidi Mazamean), Asasa Le tombe collettive,
(Compilato da) Il primo libro poetico del famoso poeta
Stanno per invadere le mie città;
Iqbal Sajid, Kulyat-e-Iqbal Sajid, Iqbal Sajid: Shakhsiat
gold Fan e Kuliyat-e-Ustad Daman. Hs articoli Bartanvi
E i venditori di bare,
Danese Gahon Meinn Urdu Tadrees Ki Riwayat, Khak Guarda i nostri corpi giovani e freschi
say Uthnay Wala Fann, Europe Con occhi avidi.
Aur America Mein Urdu Zaban Il ragno della morte è
ka Mustaqbil, Urdu Zaban kay impegnato,
Europi Shoara, Mashriq Nel tessere la ragnatela
Shanasi ki Rawait aur German
della mia vittima.
Mustashreqeen, Arab Dunya ka
Pehla Jang Mukhalifare Shayer
aur Takhliqi Zaaviey, Classiki Oh! Becchini,
Mausiqi: Dhurpad Say Khayal Elimina la fame diffusa
tak, Lahore ki Adabi Rawait
Mein Qahwa Khanon ka Dai tuoi cortili,
Kirdar`` Classiki Mausiqi mein
Perché c'è trambusto
Gharaney ka Tasawar, Classiki
Nel cimitero.
Mausiqi kay Pakistani
Gharaney, Bar-e-Sagheitdu
Khanon ka Kirdar`` Classiki Venire!
Mausiqi mein Gharaney ka Tasawar, Classiki Mausiqi Protestiamo sulle strade
kay Pakistani Gharaney, Bar-e-Sagheitdu Janibal Mein Contro la guerra;
Syah Sulagta Sigret, Information Technology aur Kitab I miei lettori sii mio testimone,
ka Mustaqbil, Maghrabi Tarz-e-Ahsas aur Is Kay
Non ho macchiato la mia penna
Tashkili Anasir, Europe Aur America Kay Urdu Nazm
Nigar, Kainati Shaur ky, Javed Shaheen Aik Ta'aruf,
Con gli inni delle guerre,
Shaeri, Science aur Falsafa, Tarikeen- e-Watan ki Nai
Nasl aur Urdu ka Mustaqbil, Tarkeen-e-Watan ki Shaeri La mia identità,
par Tanhai aur Begangi Kay Asraat, Tarkeen-e-Watan ki Sono le canzoni di pace
Shaeri aur Maghrabi Tarz-e-Ehsaas, Mout k Ghaat Le mie canzoni stanno scavando le radici delle
Utarty Mizamir, Nars lon se aati Awazen, Saazon ka guerre,
Jahan, Taar k Saazon ka Bawa Adam, Urdu Afsaane ma
Perché il mio cuore è il nido di colomba.
Kahani ki wapsi e Europe aur America k Urdu Nazam
36
Nigaar sono stati pubblicati in diverse riviste di ricerca

nazionali e internazionali. È l'autore delle serie Una breve biografia letteraria
drammatiche Dastak Na Do, Adh Khula Darwaza,
Suragh, Teesri Aankh, Faisla, Shart e Painda. Ha anche
ospitato programmi televisivi come Marsia Gold Karbla,
Naat Go, Bahattar Aik Taaruf.
Review contradictions of affections, the obstacles of

despair in their allusive depth.
"The night will pass without The intensity written beyond the lines
miracles" by Daniele Vaienti follows the detachment from conventional
poetics and feeds on literary improvisation by
The night will pass without miracles by involving the emotional symbols of the
Daniele Vaienti (Edizioni del Faro 2019 - theatrical magic vortex, accompanying, in each
Series "Sonar. Words and voices" directed by comment, the poet's emotional resources.
Paolo Agrati) is the debut book of the poet and The poet exists in the present instant,
performer active in the circuit of slam and releasing the ambush of nostalgia and memory
acting poetry, dictated by tenacity free and in the free vibrations of feelings.
eager, rhythmic descriptive in a sound trend The texts capture the inviolability of
that takes root in the sharp and dramatic love, against the inevitable defeat of the world
measure of humanity celebrated as "a group of and the laceration of its constraints and urge
street children talking the need for a new
about the end of the conception of happiness,
world" (Jack Kerouac). of salvation towards the
call to authentic life and
The verses seek the the complicity of the
existence of familiarity moment.
and reanalyze the private, The discovery of the
everyday and simple self, of the thought
expressions common to absolved by prejudices, of
emotional confessions human values, of the
that reveal the comforting collective consciousness
refuge of any ideological is the goal of a complete
and practical, tangible poetic affinity with the
and autobiographical experience. The individual journey towards a task towards
diffusion of poetry is the existential magnetic hope.
recording engraved on material resistant to The artistic need arises from a desire for
the wear and tear of time. freedom of expression, vital dynamism, and
The distortion of concrete and carnal through the investigation in the sense of good,
visions (a photo, cigarettes, autumn) allows us it includes the universality of the content and
to imagine a dream and real license, in which the intimate research of the whole.
life is the communicative passage of what is
written with passion and for our own Here are some poems from The Night Will
happiness. Daniele Vaienti's hypnotic and Pass Without Miracles...
confidential writing is a benevolence of
37
intoxication, in mastering an experience in

which the close and incisive technique and
joke praises a sentimental autonomy that
torments the unpredictability and
Nothing else Sherzod Artikov
It's about learning Sherzod Artikov was born in 1985 in

to exist Marghilan city of Uzbekistan. He graduated from
without pretending Ferghana Polytechnic Institute in 2005. His works
that is. are more often published in the domestic press of
the Republic. He mainly writes stories and essays.
His first book, The Autumn’s Symphony, was
It happens, be
released in 2020. He is one of the winners of the
careful national literary contest “My Pearl Country” in the
do not fall. category of prose. His works appeared in such
Russian and Ukraine network magazines as
That silence "Camerton", "Topos", "Autograph". In addition, his
stories were published in the literary magazines
I smile blankly and websites of Kazakhstan,
counting trains USA, Serbia, Montenegro,
Turkey, Bangladesh,
lost and lost for
Pakistan, Egypt, Slovenia,
to be able to forget
Germany, Greece, China,
absent voice that Peru, Saudi Arabia, Mexico,
he raised the volume of Argentine, Spain, Italy,
silence by a notch Bolivia, Costa Rica, Romania
and India.
The autumn ***
Sherzod Artikov
What should I do urodził się w 1985 roku w
with this mieście Margilan w
wet autumn, Uzbekistanie. W 2005 roku
which is scary ukończył Instytut Politechniczny w Ferganie.
Cieszy się rosnącą popularnością w swojej
all wrong
ojczyźnie. Pisze głównie opowiadania i eseje. Jego
as my score
pierwsza książka Symfonia jesieni ukazała się w
in the fall of this year, 2020 roku. Jest jednym z laureatów
who took the smile out of town on ogólnokrajowego konkursu literackiego „Mój
which we embraced out of necessity, perłowy kraj” w kategorii proza. Jego teksty
because it's cold outside ukazały się w rosyjskich i ukraińskich
and you can't smoke inside czasopismach internetowych, takich jak
"Camerton", "Topos", "Autograf". Ponadto jego
opowiadania opublikowano w czasopismach
There it is
literackich i na stronach internetowych
38
this fall Kazachstanu, USA, Serbii, Czarnogóry, Turcji,

what to do with it Bangladeszu, Pakistanu, Egiptu, Słowenii, Niemiec,
Grecji, Chin, Peru, Arabii Saudyjskiej, Meksyku,
Argentyny, Hiszpanii, Włoch , Boliwii, Kostaryki,
Rumunii a także Indii.

Lenuș Lungu transmission of a message to the world. To

convey the message of divine grace. List of
Literary review fabulous items: "The wave of the false self",
"orgasm of wisdom", creates an image of great
Bhagirath Choudhary is a writer and a suggestive force. The modernism of poetry is
valuable humanism, a soul with an inner and argued by the compositional structure, the
outer activity. The magic of words vibrates in poem is constituted in lyrical sequences, in
sounds. With the lucidity of a vision, any which the poet directly expresses his
emphasis is focused exclusively on the conception of the act of creation, emphasizing
accuracy of absolute accuracy. Style is a the light of the artist's condition in the world.
powerful dream with a poetic intonation, The lyricism in this poem confirms the
unity of thought and vision. The psychology of presence of the lyrical self through the lexico-
lyric poetry is obvious, this being an engine of grammatical marks represented by the verbs:
inspiration and the "I came," "I explored." A
existence of the poetic parable that highlights
hero. Poetry has a great God's grace. The
value and a great expressiveness of poetry
appreciation from is realized at the
readers and literary morphosyntactic level.
critics. The poem "My The words in the present
Earth Sojourn" is modern gnomy perpetuate the
and expresses the artist's structural passion for
creative effort for a writing, the creative
spiritual product on the commotion and the desire
inner states of the poetic to communicate the
year, tormented by inner turmoil and turmoil. poetic self with the world, ideas that confer the
The verses are the product of a revelation, of pragmatic character of poetry. The language is
divine grace: characterized by the use of shocking words
"Evolution has given me / with fascinating expressiveness, words "my
pound of flesh", "holy vicars" whose meaning
A divine body ". The poem suggests
acquires new values. The stylistic registers
beauty, purity, light. Representative for
combine, in the modern way, the popular
artistic language innovation. An artistic
language with archaic flavor with the religious
modality encountered in European lyric
one, from this combination thus succeeding
poetry, it offers a shocking and fascinating
the originality "apostle", "divine value",
expressiveness through its aesthetic effects.
"mental evolution", "the sedative of the ego".
39
Poetry is structured by unequal lyrical

Modern prosody is supported by lyrics with
sequences, artistic creed and divine grace. It
metrics and rhythm. A literary work that is the
suggests the desire to express in verse the
fruit of divine grace and toil.
thirst for communication and the

Bhagirath Choudhary For getting

My pound of flesh
My Earth Sojourn
With sadistic pride
I came
Every day I write
Upon earth
My false narrative
To explore
Keeping firmly
My divine worth
Under ego's sedative
To learn
Of greed
My lesson
And material race
With passion
I hide behind
And to earn
Veil of false self
My mental evolution
But not to face
My truth
Every night
And my divine self
Before I retire
I take stock
Evolution made me
Of every bump
God's Image
And every stroke
Like a true Sage
Every valley
Without any schism
And every hillock
I am made like
Every start
A wisdom organism
And every stop
Evolution gave me
I flasely verify
A body divine
I justify
For letting
I deny
Love and light shine
My every falsity
Without tools of offence
And every lie
Or defence
I came
40
I talk like
Like an apostle
Saintly Vicars
Of nonviolence
But I stage wars
Without mercy or grace
Lenuș Lungu role being played by artistic procedures, style

figures and coloristics of the elements that
make up the painting. Defines a painting
"Alone on the sea shore"
created by a special technique of using
discreetly applied colors, the images being
Punya Devi
blurred, without thick touches, emanating
The sea is the one that can be identified
delicacy and tenderness. Appreciating the
with the human being, because it is a symbol
beauty of the sea is, perhaps, the most
of the dynamics of life. Just as man sighs, he is
influential component of inspiration for pre-
troubled in the hard moments of life, just as
romantic poets, being animated by an uplifting
“the sea is troubled, it sighs, it crushes its
love of an exaltation specific to the era in the
rushing waves of boulders, it retreats into
description of enchanting landscapes (the
enigmatic waves, then returns. She struggled,
sea).
uneasy and troubled, like a titan. Everything
The title The
emerges from the sea and
Beginning is the artistic
everything returns to it,
image of the unique
because it is a place of
moment of the meeting
births, transformations
between the author and
and rebirths.
the sea. The landscape is
The water reveals
created by discreetly
to the poet the source,
combining the human-
dividing into me its color
terrestrial plane with the
and the rocks, giving it
universal-cosmic one.
strength, the sand the
From a pre-romantic
warmth with gentleness
perspective, the
and enveloping me with
description of the
an awfully rich gratitude,
landscape is made by the discreet combination
leaving for the rest of the days in memory the
of the human-terrestrial plane with the
perfection of its beauty.
universal-cosmic one, made up of artistic
Quiet. It's so quiet that it's starting to images and style figures. The subjective
heat up every part, every bone, every piece of lyricism highlighted by the presence of the
me. first person, authorial - in the second and third
The poem is a lyrical creation in verse, in stanzas - and the meditative note of the poetry
which a picture of nature is described, made in the last stanza.
by combining the human-terrestrial and The poetic imaginary transfigures the
universal-cosmic planes. The poet (lyrical self) concrete reality into an artistic vision specific
directly expresses his states, emotions, to the lyrical self, whose interpretation implies
41
feelings experienced in front of the painted the sensitive reflection of the surrounding
landscape. As artistic means, the poem world through the expressive and aesthetic
combines visual images with auditory, motor, function of the word, sounds and colors. The
chromatic, olfactory images, etc., an important attraction that the landscape exerts on the
lyrical self is expressed by verbs in the first Punya Devi

person singular: "I left", "my dreams", "I look",
and the painting is dominated by motor "Alone on the sea shore"
images, "Looking for diamonds and pearls," in
veils ”. Passing through the various levels of the sun
The chromatic epithet and descriptive heated sand
epithets, contribute to the creation of emotion
Me alone on the sea shore
for the beauty of the landscape, elements that
constitute the plan of the object viewed by the
lyrical self. The idea is emphasized that this I am welcomed warmly
poem describes not only a natural landscape, By the dazzling waves
but also a landscape of the soul, highlighting
the subjective lyricism of poetry. The attitude I feel as if the waves are smiling
of the lyrical self is
And immediately started
meditative, discreetly
playing
suggesting the idea that
his thoughts are hide and seek with me
hypnotically attracted by Like a herd of children
the moving waves, They awakened in an
through the metaphor of instant
the flow: The waves begin
My childhood which was
to rise /And they started
dormant
running on sticks /With
their hands ".
The lyrical self Running towards me
detaches itself, as it were, Touching my feet
from the surrounding nature, contemplating Then going back to the
fascinated and frozen in admiration: "I feel Lap or their mother sea
that the waves are smiling /And immediately I
The waves are playing
started playing /hide me and seek with me "
Thieves-cops with me
The suggestion of the lyrical text is
For a while
illustrated by the style figures (tropes) that
compose a unique picture through beauty, a
true aesthetic ensemble made by combining Again it felt like that
visual and motor images, provoking a strong The waves are starting to raise
emotion of admiration and delight on the And have started chasing the sticks
42
reader. The expressiveness of the poem is

With their hands
supported by the verbs found in the present
Like our old teacher of the school
tense, which outline the permanence of the
dynamic aspect of the landscape ensemble. Asked me_hey girl,if you do your
Math wrong
You could not success in your life Nandita De nee Chatterjee

What is your name
Interview of Lenuş Lungu
I earnestly bowed my head
To the great sea Nandita: What are the current poetic
trends in Europel? Thematic and form? Does it
And give my identity
vary between regions?
Lenuș L: Literature evolves by force of
In the Sea of my life circumstances, it has no way to stand still. The
By seeking diamond and pearls world we live in is evolving, the tools, the ways
we use when we write. Another is our
I have committed the blunder
relationship with the text, with the sheet of
I didn't get but met a plunder paper, I would say, but I should say with the
Jumping in the tide computer screen. There are many who
My dreams coming up to continue to write on
paper, but there are
me
individual options. All of
Becoming a common these things have
oyster changed the literature. I
don't like the word
evolution very much,
Carrying a load of an because evolution
empty house somehow has a
On my back connotation that brings
the word closer to the
You could not understand
idea of progress. It's
what kind of nomad now I changing, for sure. For
am better or worse, it
remains to be seen.
But Oh my great Sea 40 years ago, poetry was the queen of

Romanian literature; it was an avalanche of
Having seen the meeting scenery very good poets, being considered the golden
Of many rivers in your bosom age itself. Romanian poetry had a privileged
Hearing the echoing of music of status, in contrast to what was happening in
Western literatures, for example, and what is
Of the concert of unity
happening now. And the relationship with the
Flying to me from the tree of knowledge public has changed. With the disappearance of
Being a new born silver dove censorship, a number of barriers and
I have lost myself in the inhibitions have disappeared. The language of
43
literature has changed, it has freed itself from

Great Sea of humanity.
the straps.
And because it translates enormously,
the reader has an extraordinarily wide range

of literary options at his disposal. Quality free of constraints.

reading, for any person, must be Nandita: What were your early
indispensable. Certainly, I tell you, a book, at influences which made you an author/editor?
the right time, can change a person. It would Lenuș L: I chose writing. And writing,
be a great exaggeration to say that I am aware I've been writing since I was 10 years old.
of what is being written in the world now. Since then I have the first memories of this
Now you know, after a year you see that desire. And, you will probably be surprised,
you are no more. I do not think that there is those memories are not related to prose, but
"literature that is being written now", in the to poetry. Four verses written in blue colored
sense of a coherence and consistency of pencil on the page of a geography atlas. I wrote
several literary formulas. The problem with for school magazines, children's magazines.
today's literature is: what books come to the In time I also wrote prose, essays,
surface? For every great book, for every great articles for various newspapers and
author, there are a hundred equally great magazines. The years have passed, I have
books and authors that will never reach written 6 books (poetry,
everyone's lips. essays, interviews,
"Quality" literature psychology, ancient
is on the verge of history, the founders of
extinction today, like the Romanian language).
everything that is quality. My literary
The competition it (does influences were some
not) face today comes famous writers
from various areas and is
Usually what I
overwhelming:
dream of at night is the
commercial literature,
day.
non-fiction, ethics, film,
video games, the media Nandita: What are
industry in general. The the themes your books
semi-literacy state of today's societies. But and literary work are centred on? Has it
especially the political and ideological field evolved over the years or is it a continued
that distorts everything. "True" literature does exploration of your initial interests and
not flourish, but survives today, and its future concerns?
(like ours) is bleak. Lenuș L: My books focus on love,
All the more I value those who, as artists, psychology and a lot of philosophy. Yes, I think
do not make any pact and do not enlist in any we have evolved and it is still in continuous
army, but remain faithful to their beliefs and exploitation. My most important concern is
the Western tradition in which they grew up. the "Word." Through the originality and
You can only write out of artistic conviction, diversity of the work, I hope to join the gallery
everything you write as a militant comes out of people dedicated to Romanian culture, in
the country and everywhere in the world. I
44
false. You can express your ideology in articles

and posts in social media, I believe in the need earned this unanimous respect through
to involve the artist in world issues and, in my prodigious work, seriousness, study and love
clumsy and naive way, I have always been for the Romanian language and literature, for
involved. But poetry and prose should remain the authentic values of the nation. Culture,

literature, art, are not only done on vacation, waves in an atmosphere of love for Romanian
on weekends, in free time. An exercise in total and international literature and culture,
devotion is necessary, as in true love. anchoring and making souls interested in
The published articles serve as a mirror vibrating.
of a life entirely dedicated to the Word and Art. Nandita: What is the International
The word is like a clear fountain that flows Literary Coffee Association about? What does
through the rocks to the valley of tears where it do?
people live. I base my approach on solitude Lenuș L: I am the founder of the
and on a loving-detached look of the ambiance,
Associazione Internazionale Caffe letterario is
recording and communicating such an a non-governmental association and is
experience in stylistic structures. founded in Italy. This association deals with
Nandita: Tell us about your two the promotion of culture and literary events in
magazines Cronos and Taifas Literary. What Italy and around the world. Within this
are the central themes? How did they begin association there is also a literary circle of
and what has the journey music and poetry, we
been like? meet and debate various
Lenuș L: These are literary and musical
my soul magazines were themes. Due to the
born in Constanța pandemic, we stopped the
(Romania) by the sea. literary meeting for the
Together with the time being. I love culture,
members of the editorial literature is part of me
team, we set out to bring and I can't live without
culture closer to the souls them.
of our fellow men and to Nandita: What are
create a community of the projects in your hand
beauty lovers. now and your plans for
I can say that Cronos 2021?
and Taifas Literary Magazine invites the Lenuș L: First of all, to transmit culture
reader on a journey into the world of visual in people's souls being a cultural promoter.
arts, prose, poetry, interviews, journals, The project that makes me happy for 8
representing any area of culture. Writers and years I lead a campaign (good writers but they
artists are the bearers of the flame of the can't afford to edit) "A writer's dream" I help
Romanian spirit and culture, which them to edit an author's book.
illuminates the way and makes the fruits of Yes, I have many projects from which, in
this nation bear fruit through unconditional addition to the magazine, I want to publish an
dedication. I thought of the magazines as a Almanac "Taifas Literary Cafe" that will
new representation of universal culture born contain sections from all fields. I am working
on the sea shore, where the sand spreads on 2 international anthologies. I have a lot of
under the wave through the veil that embraces
45
projects and there would be a lot to write

the sparkle of the water, and transforms the about, but for now I will stop here. The 7th
shadow of the sole into letters. I thought that book will be published in India.
on the wet shore touched by a "Golden Pen"
Thank you very much!
the wind will blow raising the word in huge
Stefano Capasso Above the altar there is a 1749 canvas

""TRANSFIGURATION"" and then again a
Stabia - Quisisana, BAPTISMAL SOURCE of 1582 on which the
oldest is stamped Coat of arms of the city of
CHURCH of SS SALVATORE and SAN
Stabia.
MICHEL
To admire a canvas of the eighteenth
Pope Callixtus III, after the victory over
century ""OUR LADY OF CONSTANTINOPLE""
the Turks in Belgrade, in 1456, instituted the
ORGAN from 1894 placed in the Cantoria Two
feast of Christ the Savior throughout the
ALTARS of 1793 WOODEN STATUE of the
Church.
eighteenth century ""SAN MICHEAL"" work of
Monumental Church located in the hilly Francesco Picano.
area of Stabia, in the hamlet of Scanzano.
And lastly the Canonica and the Bell
The current appearance can be traced Tower which date back to the end of the 18th
back to the works from the beginning of the century.
twentieth century, based
on a project by the parish
priest of Palmigiano;
while the decorations
were the work of
Vincenzo Galloppi
between 1914/1915.
Following the
earthquake of 1980, it
was still necessary to
intervene, but the works
only ended in the late 90s.
Facade - in
travertine it is divided into two orders by an
entablature which in the center bears an
inscription in metal alloy from the 19th
century, with the Name of the Temple. In the
lower part a portal with three pairs of
capitulated pilasters on the sides.
Identical motif in the upper part, with a
large window in the center with a splendid
window. It ends with a triangular tympanum
surmounted by an iron cross.
46
INTERIOR - with two vaulted naves, an

ABSIDE with dome where the high altar is
placed in precious marbles, coming from the
Church of the Annunziata al Molo, demolished
to give additional space to the Royal Shipyard.
The best wishes

that I address to Stabia
What I envy,
as a distant exile,
it is without a doubt
that tender perfume
of the Life down there,
where Mare, Sole
and a blue sky
spread in the air
delicate flavors
of an Ancient Land:
Beautiful, cultured and fascinating
Today, however, my gaze

remains veiled by melancholy
for neglect and abandonment
of places that over the centuries
have intertwined,
with mixed fortunes
the life of a proud people:
that of the Stabiani.
Therefore, the Great Wish

that I address to my people
is to put a bank, convinced,
to an interminable drift
of a Cultural Heritage
which horrifies
also WHO,
above the clouds
remains silent to observe.
47

Kabbo Kotha Jonayed Khandakar Nir
খয়রাতি চাওয়া ইরে করর
আর কি রাি জাগা? আর কি তিয়ম করর কারে ইরে করর

ডাকা? জুিারয়ি খন্দকার িীর
উরেক্ষার অরেক্ষায় সবই শূিয অসার তিজজিিায় ০৫ তডরসম্বর ২০২০ তিষ্টাব্দ
ফাাঁকা।
যতি দিখরি দেরি মরির আকাশটা,
ইরে করর দিামায় হাজারটা িারম ডাকরি,
বুঝরি কি তিিঃসঙ্গ দেরমর তচরেরকাঠা!
হৃিরয় জমারিা কথা গুরো দিামায় শুিারি।
এই যাযাবর মি দেরমর বাাঁধি কি শি ভারব
সারাক্ষণ দিামার সারথ দরেোইরির ধারর দমরঠা েরথ
তিয়তির তিোরম চরে েোট তেখরি েুরে হাাঁটরি,
অিুভরব অিুক্ষণ দিামায় তিরয় কতবিা
কি তক দয ররচ এই মি তেখরি-
তিশুতির চরাচরর… আমার দয খুব ইরে করর।।
চাাঁিরক হিযা করর তবরহী
িিুমি সূয জ দিরখ দসািা
ইরে করর দিামার কারো
দভারর।
দকরশর গি তিরি,
আর কি রাি এমতি করর
মরির অতেন্দ দডারর.. রংধিুর সাি ররঙ্গ দিামায়
ভারোবাসার অর্ঘযজ রাঙ্গারি।
তিরব,মন্দাতকিী সুর িু েরব
ইথারর? ইরে করর োতখ হরয়
জাবর কাটুক মিাতেন্দ উেরি,
আত্মজ েোরে আাঁতক োাঁয়া হরয় দিামার সারথ
রংধিু
সারাটা দবো কাটারি।
সময় িাতেরয় দবোয় েূণ জ শশী দেররায় বাজজরয়
দবিু।
ইরে করর কিম হরয় ফুটরি-
সুরখর োয়রা িাতহ দিয় ধরা েোট তেখরি শুধুই
খরা দিামার আতঙ্গিায় সুভাস েোরি।
আগুি সম রঙিি ফািুস দয উোয় দকবেই
স্বয়ম্ভরা। ইরে করর িিী হরয় বরয় চেরি-
মি আরে দসরিা মৃিবৎসা আগুরিই খুরাঁ জ দিামার হৃিরয় দেউ িু েরি,
ফাল্গুি সহসা আমার দয খুব খুব ইরে করর।
এ জীবি খয়রাতি চাওয়ায় শুধু খুরাঁ জ বসন্ত
48
অিুসতিৎসা। (েকৃতি ও োকৃতিক দসৌন্দরযরজ তকেু েতব তিোম)

জািাোর গ্রীে ধরর িাাঁোই যখতি তেেু ডারক
(েতব গুতে সংগৃহীি)
যাতমিী
হৃিয় চঞ্চে হয় দচাখ েেেে উিো েবি আউো
ধরণী।
coperta3 p47 2 authors

Jay-Ar Nhor
Refik Martinović
Are You Tired of Waiting a

Wish
True love ?
I would give anything
My heart is bleeding
to be tonight Flowing non stop of boiling blood
My anger burns me
in my dreams
My tears drown me
to play
Day and Night
on those same rapids
Days and weeks
which we loved as children Months and years
Still I have a long patience
to be a butterfly
restless trajectories Finally,my heart warms

again
and a white stone
My heart heals
waiting for your touches What a happy feelings I
feel
that there is no sorrow
Is this true love?
their sounds
Our hearts have the same
which kill our steps
rhythm
but it all passed Our eyes know that we
are meant to be
they are our birds
Our brains know that it is a true love
long ago flew away My heart is happy again
in some distant sky

Never tired hoping
to wait for new encounters Never tired waiting
Learn to wait
... how I will survive
Because there is a true love for you
the truth And there is someone especial for you .
that you're gone tonight.

I hope you like it readers !!
49

The magazine appears in Romania

editorial office
Founding President Lenuș Lungu yaer I, no. 7, January, 2021
Director: Lenuș Lungu, Ioan Muntean ISSN 2458-0198
Deputy Director: Paul Rotaru
Technical Editor Ioan Muntean ISSN-L 2458-0198
Covers Ioan Muntean Founded in Constanţa,
Editor-in-Chief: Ion Cuzuioc
June 2020
Deputy Editor: Stefano Capasso
Editorial Secretary: Anna Maria Sprzęczka Revista de scrieri şi opinii literare
Taifas Literar poate fi citită online pe
Editors: Vasile Vulpaşu, Anna Maria Sprzęczka, Pietro Napoli, site-urile Cronopedia
(lenusa.ning.com)
Myriam Ghezaïl Ben Brahim, Zoran Radosavljevic, Suzana Sojtari
or: Taifas Literay Magazine
Iwan Dartha, Auwal Ahmed Ibrahim, Destiny M O Chijioke, Nikola
Orbach Özgenç Email:
worldliterarymagazine@gmail.com
Responsibility for the content of texts published in the journal
Taifas Literary Magazine belongs directly to the authors who sign
Orders for the purchase of the
them, in the name of freedom of expression. magazine can be made on the
Reproduction - in whole or in part - of the journal and its electronic distribution are Cronopedia website and on the
authorized for the private use of the reader and for non-commercial purposes. email address above.
Authors in summary:
3 AUTHORS 2, SAMEER GOEL 2, VILDANA STANISCIC 2, TANU VERMAI KAPOOR 2,
EDITORIAL 3, PAUL ROTARU 3, POETRY 10, GERLINDE STAFFLER 10, ADAM ŻEMOJTEL 10,
BHAGIRATH CHOUDHARY 11, ADAM DECOWSKI 12, PRINCE STEVE OYEBODE 12, SELMA KOPIC
13, SHASWATA GANGOPADHYAY 14, SIR SILVANO BORTOLAZZI 15, JANAMENJOY GHORAI 16,
RUKI KOČAN 16, NABA KUMAR PODDER 16, RAMESH CHANDRA PRADHANI 17, JIGME JAMTSHO
17, AD IBRAHIM 18, MILKA J.ŠOLAJA 18, BLJESAK BJELINE 18, TIMOTHY MICHAEL DIVITO 18,
VELIMIR SILJANOSKI 19, CILENTI EMANUELE 19, DIJANA UHEREK STEVANOVIĆ, 19, MAHANAJ
PARVIN 20, LENUȘ LUNGU 20, STEFANO CAPASSO 20, ADEYEMI KEHINDE A. OLUWANISHOLA 21,
MAYOKUN KEHINDE FOLORUNSHO 21, ION CUZUIOC 22, ANNA MARIA STĘPIEŃ 23,
MUHAMMAD ISHAQ ABBASI 24, DUŠAN PEJAKOVIĆ 25, PROSE 26, SPISATELJICA BISERKA 26,
ZORAN RADOSAVLJEVIĆ 26, ŠAHDO BOŠNJAK 27, ESSAY 31, LORETA TOADER 31, BILL STOKES 31,
SANTOSH KUMAR-BHUTAN 32, RYSZARD MŚCISZ 32, CONFABULATION 34, LENUȘ LUNGU 34,
JAWAZ JAFFRI 36, REVIEW 37, LENUȘ LUNGU 39, BHAGIRATH CHOUDHARY 40, LENUȘ LUNGU
41, PUNYA DEVI 42, NANDITA DE NEE CHATTERJEE 43, STEFANO CAPASSO 46, KABBO KOTHA 48,
JONAYED KHANDAKAR NIR 48, 2 AUTHORS 49, REFIK MARTINOVIĆ 49, JAY-AR NHOR 49
50

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Taifas Literary Magazine No. 7, January, 2021

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3 authors ... p.

Sameer Goel Tanu Vermai Kapoor

some unfortunates Moments that were ours…never elapsed

ISSN 2458-0198 - ISSN-L 2458-0198 TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

în ceea ce pretinde a fi.

gândirile tipizate vehiculează nonsensuri cu căci asta ar conduce la schilodirea spiritului

simțăminte comune, dovedindu-și, astfel,

non-poets! birth to modern poetry. Well, if Baudelaire

Gerlinde Staffler Adam Żemojtel

Sleepless mind Pysznych myśli słowa

Thoughts are wandering in turbulent streams rozlałaś słodyczy eliksir na skórze

Thoughts leave me never alone mgłą tajemnych uczuć przesłaniasz krajobraz

krew znów rozżarzona i to do białości

ISSN 2458-0198 - ISSN-L 2458-0198 TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

wreszcie się wyzwala burza z piorunami Do I need

And selfish deed.

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Adam Decowski Prince Steve Oyebode

Wędrówka The power of love

[Journey] We thought it was but a mere oath

ostatnim uderzeniem Now I know the nitty gritty of oath

ISSN 2458-0198 - ISSN-L 2458-0198 TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Waiting for midnight Čekajući ponoć

up your seat-belt His poetry has been highly appreciated among

His book of poems: Inhabitant of Pluto Planet

SIR SILVANO BORTOLAZZI

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Janamenjoy Ghorai Naba Kumar Podder

„”Grammar of Life” A Tale of Coloured Pent

Pohlepa i bolest, Bay of Bengal.

Ramesh Chandra Pradhani Often I guessed how you created opportunity

AD Ibrahim Timothy Michael DiVito

My nubian princess "A One Way Train"

How tan is she! It's time to leave now,

Her hips invites you across the desert of time.

Her obsidian skin soul,

Velimir Siljanoski Cilenti Emanuele

Početak! The poet of the clouds.

Početak našeg stradanja I wrote you

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Mahanaj Parvin to be able to include them

Eyes now tired

Adeyemi Kehinde A. Oluwanishola Even before now and ever after

the damage is done And the victory songs are

Ion CUZUIOC Federaţiei Internaţionale a Jurnaliştilor.

Membru al Senatului Asociației Macedonia s-a învrednicit de premiile I la

ISSN 2458-0198 - ISSN-L 2458-0198 TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

*** Anna Maria Stępień

pădure în flăcări – Recepta

surpriza nopții – Gdy z tego sprawę sobie

W marzeń magiczną moc swych wierz,

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Muhammad Ishaq Abbasi

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ISSN 2458-0198 - ISSN-L 2458-0198 TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Šahdo Bošnjak dnevnicu, a ni da mu kakav poslićak uradim.

uvjerljiviji: im je potreban neko ko bi im pocijepao drva za

svi mi, samo što je 'nako... malo previše izvikan pitanjem:

year I, no. 7, 2021, January ISSN 2458-0198 – ISSN-L 2458-0198

i prozbori, Ahmo se pomoli iz prodavnice banana, noga mu se pokliznu, a on se ispruži

is the prize we all seek. Ryszard Mścisz

Forever, to allow it to sparkle in harmony that

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Il classico si fonde con successo con le