Posted in General Interest, interNational Poetry Month, Poems/Poetry, poetry

a shadow lurking—3 poems | Mitko Gogov

“…when you dream, you see the most…”
Oil Pastels ©2023 jsburl

[just a little prayer]

Translated by Tom Phillips
when you’re silent, you say the most,
when you dream, you see the most.

elephants wake to the orchestra inside you
—for the first time the hunters are scared by their own trumpets.

take a look inside yourself while you’re taking care not to
          tread on the grass.

in the room there’s the smell of all the nights
we failed to create. the stars fell asleep, waiting
on the floor. there are still traces on the stained tiles, insignificance
like a shadow lurking between outlines.

we will go without getting angry
at the flowers to the dance that turned purple to yellow.
in the night fan we missed another prayer.
—mental dust

which in the cosmos plays out the saddest dream.
winner of the Enhalon prize 2018

[само малку молитва]

кога си тивок тогаш најмногу зборуваш,
кога сонуваш тогаш најмногу гледаш.

се будат слоновите со оркестарoт во тебе
—ловџиите за прв пат се плашат од сопствените труби.

гледај во себе додека внимаваш да не ја настапнеш тревата.

во собата мирисаат сите ноќи
кои не успеавме да ги создадеме. ѕвездите заспаа чекајќи
на подот. по извалканите плочки сѐ уште траги, маленкоста
како сенка се крие помеѓу фугите.

ќе си заминеме без да се лутиме на
цвеќињата, на танцот кој го претворил виолетовото во жолто.
во вентилаторот на ноќта испуштаме уште една молитва
—ментална прашина

што во космосот го игра најтажниот сон.

.hidden scripture

Translated by Nikola Gjelincheski
don’t forget the written
words, the voices that subdued 
the joy of your voice.
 
unite the cities, move the
bridges.
 
in the centre place a fighter, move 
the white capturing piece, do not worry,
the winners
write it down.

.скриено писмо

не заборавај ги напишаните
зборови, оние гласови кои ја покорија
радоста на твојот глас.
 
обедини ги градовите, помести ги
мостовите.
 
во средината постави борец, пушти
го белиот ловец, не грижи се,
оној кој победува
запишува.

.the forgotten stool everyone should sit

Translated by Nikola Gjelincheski
proud of our past
unstable in the present
we tremble before the future
we cut down trees although we know
that a football pitch can’t be built on a hill
where the goalposts can’t be seen
 
we run uphill with stones in our pockets
the doors and windows don’t creak anymore, 
but behind them the same snobs throw us away
like spoiled pickled food, they don’t smell us,
they throw us in the cellar as destroyed,
invalid evidence.  
 
true values, right?
 
we/they are all managers of the office for 
lost reasonable opinions. 
one day I’ll take all the flags waving in vain
and I’ll put them in a washing machine. 
they all need to be washed—together.
with the same washing powder and the same softener. 
because that should be the new freedom!
we float in life like a plastic bag in the wind
in a full-length silent film. the ones who don’t realize it,
even more so. 
 
great people leave, little sweethearts come
—except for the ones found on the shore.
 
will they achieve greatness or will unease eat them up?
amid crudeness, stupidity and vanity galore
everyone looks for their place under the sun to scream their heart out
about everything weighing down on their soul. 
 
we want to be cherries, yet we’re worms, hidden inside them.
a mandala made of sand left in the storm,
until someone stops breathing 
 
—we’ll keep on destroying ourselves.

.заборавениот троножец на кој сите треба да седнеме

горди на минатото
нестабилни во сегашноста
се тресеме на иднината

сечеме дрвја иако знаеме
дека фудбалскиот терен не се гради на рид во кој
головите не се гледаат

трчаме по угорница со камења во џебовите
вратите и прозорците повеќе не крцкаат,
но позади нив истите снобови како расипана зимница
не фрлаат, не нѐ мирисаат,

не расфрлаат во депото како уништени,
невалидни докази.

нели вистински вредности?

сите с(м)е директори на канцеларијата за
изгубени здраворазумни ставови.

еден ден ќе ги соберам сите знамиња кои залудно се веат
и ќе ги ставам во перачка машина.
на сите им треба перење и тоа—заедно.
со ист прашок за перење и ист омекнувач.
оти тоа би требало да биде новата слобода!

лебдиме во животот како пластично ќесе на ветрот
во долгометражен нем филм. оние кои не препознаваат,
уште повеќе.

големите луѓе си одат, мали срценца доаѓаат
—освен оние најдени на брегот.

ќе станат ли и тие големи или јанѕата ќе ги изеде?

во раскошот на грубоста, глупоста, ништожноста,
секој си бара место за да си извика
сѐ она што му тежи на душичката.

сакаме да бидеме цреши, а црви сме, скриени во нив.

мандала сме од песок оставена на бура,
се додека некој не престане да дише

—ќе продолжиме да се уништуваме.

Poetry ©2018–2023 Mitko Gogov
English Translation of [just a little prayer] ©2023 Tom Phillips
English Translations of .hidden scripture and
.the forgotten stool everyone should sit on ©2023 Nikola Gjelincheski
All rights reserved


Mitko Gogov

…was born on 11 November 1983, in Skopje, Macedonia. He writes poetry, short stories, essays and journal articles. He also writes haiku, senryu, renga and publishes them on the microblogging network twitter. His works have been translated and published in numerous anthologies, poetry books and journals for art and literature in India, Pakistan, the Philippines, China, Taiwan, Egypt, USA, Argentina, Russia, Spain, Italy, the Czech Republic, Romania, Germany, Israel, Mexico, Serbia, Croatia, Albania, Kosovo, Greece, Bulgaria… 

He has published the poetry collections: Ice Water (BCC, Serbia 2011), Anthologist (2014), Hidden Letter Anthologist (2019), Linear. Numbers (Macabeo, 2021) and won several awards and recognitions including: Enhalon, presented by the Struga Poetry Evenings; Angelo La Vecchia Prize in Sicily, Italy; Prizes at the “Poetic Literary Sparks” Poetry Slam in Prilep; Struga Waves in Struga; and many more. 

He is the president of the Association for Cultural Development and Protection of the cultural heritage “Context – Strumuca,” an organizer of the global poetry event “100 Thousand Poets for Change,” a representative of the World Union of Poets and the School of Poetry–Macedonian Delegation, One of the founders of the Antevo Slovo and Antevo Per” Awards, and Editor of strumicaonline.net and reper.net.mk. He also is a conceptual artist and has had several exhibitions, installations, performances, scenography and multimedia projects in Norway, France, Italy, Serbia, Macedonia, Bulgaria… And he organizes cultural and art events, collaborates with youth, art, film and theatre festivals.


The 2023 (Inter)National Poetry Month BeZine Blog Bash

Pastel of European Robin perched on a small branch by Tom Higgins ©2021
Art: European Robin, pastels, ©2021 Tom Higgins

Posted in General Interest, interNational Poetry Month, poem, Poems/Poetry, poetry

Probation Plea | Pek-êng Koa

My Probation Plea Is Rejected Again

Translated by C. J. Anderson-Wu
1
They shouted, Democracy! Freedom!
I don’t know Democracy
And Freedom doesn’t know me
2
A Cockroach has climbed over mountain after mountain
Desperately, it rushes forward 
but crashes into a slipper at the gate of Freedom
3
A lone hawk’s wing broke
It hangs upside-down over the iron-barred window
looking inward at a corner where drafts of poems lie piled
4
My soul languishes a little bit
So I stew a poem to strengthen my bones and tendons
and swallow a tablet of homesickness to revitalize my spirit 
5
Tick Tock Tick Tock, the world is the same
Tick, Tock, the world is not the same
Needs a new battery
6
All right. Dreams have retreated
Friends, put away your teardrops
We are going to shop the market’s new morning dew.
7
My hope fell and got skinned
so a bandaid was enclosed
in a letter mailed from home
8
Dragging fetters, encountering
a bird feather dropped into the bars
I hear the sounds of clenching teeth
9
Mr. Freedom is sleeping
in a bed of clouds over heaven
It wouldn’t wake up even during a 10-magnitude earthquake
10
It only takes a randomly signed order on a piece of paper
to bend a prisoner’s backbone, dignity and dreams
into something unrecognizable

Bird and Flower
Drawing ©2023 jsburl

Translator's Note: Pek-êng Koa was formerly incarcerated for 16 years due to two charges of robbery. "My Probation Plea is Rejected Again" was created around 2007 and 2008.

Poetry ©2007-2008 Pek-êng Koa
English Translation ©2023 C. J. Anderson-Wu
All rights reserved


Pek-êng Koa

…is an award-winning Taiwanese poet, he is also a teacher and a campaigner for the creative writing of poetry in Taiwanese language. “My Probation Plea Is Rejected Again” was from his poetry A Firefly in the Fence(2010), published by the Tainan City’s Bureau of Culture.


C. J. Anderson-Wu

…is a writer and translator from Taiwan, her short fiction and poems can be found in Hennepin Review, Kitaab, Story Sanctum, and e-ratio, among other literary journals.


The 2023 (Inter)National Poetry Month BeZine Blog Bash

Pastel of European Robin perched on a small branch by Tom Higgins ©2021
Art: European Robin, pastels, ©2021 Tom Higgins

Posted in April 2020 Poetry Month, COVID-19/Pandemic, interNational Poetry Month, Poems/Poetry

Three Poems on the Pandemic by Faruk Buzhala

The following poems are in Albanian. Each is followed by an English translation.



JETA

Trazimet shpirtërore më rrahin
siç rrahin valët brigjet
siç rrahin erërat detin e trazuar.

Nuk e kuptoj
porsi foshnja shikon botën rreth tij
plot dritë ngjyra e nuanca.

Ashtu siç lëvizin hijet
në dritën e qiririt
mendimet më luhaten.

Fëmija në djep përkundet
duke ushtruar balancimin
që i duhet më pastaj në jetë.

Rrugën e kam të trasuar
me shenjat udhërrëfyese
të vendosura anëve nga babai im.

Ç’më duhet më shumë të di
janë gjymtyrët e trupit tim
ku shenjat e fatit tim lexohen.

LIFE

The spiritual torment beats me
as waves beat the shores
as winds beat the troubled sea.

I don’t understand, confused
as an infant looking at the world around
full of light, colors, and hues.

Like shadows
of a flickering candle,
my thoughts sway.

As a mother rocks a baby
in the cradle, to rehearse balance
needed later in life.

The road is clear
with signs placed along the side
by my father.

What I need to know more,
other than my body limbs,
where are signs of my fate deciphered?



Pika dhe kuptimi i saj

Mision i njeriut në këtë jetë është të gjejë lumturinë e tij
Që i jep kuptim përpjekjeve dhe sakrificave për të njohur
Kuptimin e kuptimit thelbësor të asaj
që në mendje është mister, i bartur ndër breza!

Vallë e kuptove o njeri
Se ç’deshi të t’thotë urtaku
Që jetën e çoi si eremit
I tretur në shkretëtirën e zemrës së tij.

Breza e breza kalojnë
Dhe treten në pluhurin e kohës
E ti o njeri
Do mbetesh gjithmonë
Një pikë e pikësuar nga tjetri!

The dot and its meaning

The mission humans in this life is to find happiness
that gives meaning to struggless and sacrifice,
to know the essential conception ,
the mystery of the mind, passed down through the generations!

Have you understood, o humanity?
What the wise one wants to say?
The one who, like a hermit, spent his life
Wasting in the desert of his heart?

Generations and generations pass
And dissolve in the dust of time
And you, o humanity,
You will always remain,
One dot punctuated by the other!



Laj duart!

Kur mendon se ke gënjyer
Laj duart
Kur mendon se ke shpifur
Laj duart
Kur mendon se ke intriguar
Laj duart
Kur mendon se ke mashtruar
Laj duart
Kur mendon se ke abuzuar
Laj duart
Kur mendon se ke keqinterpretuar
Laj duart
Kur mendon se ke keqpërdoruar
Laj duart
Kur mendon se ke tradhëtuar
Laj duart
Kur mendon se ke lënduar
Laj duart!
P.S.
Edhe Ponc Pilati pati larë duart duke thënë:
Ishalla s’më bjen Korona Virusi!

Wash your hands!

When you think you’ve lied
Wash your hands
When you think you’ve slandered
Wash your hands
When you think you’re intrigued
Wash your hands
When you think you’ve cheated
Wash your hands
When you think you’ve abused
Wash your hands
When you think you’ve misinterpreted
Wash your hands
When you think you’ve misused
Wash your hands
When you think you’ve betrayed
Wash your hands
When you think you hurt
Wash your hands!

P.S.
Even Pontius Pilate washed his hands saying:
“Hopefully the coronavirus doesn’t bug me!”


All poems and translations © 2020, Faruk Buzhala



FARUK BUZHALA is a well-known poet from Ferizaj, Kosovo . He was born in 9 March 1968 in Pristina. He is the former manager and leader of “De Rada,” a literary association, from 2012 until 2018, and also the representative of Kosovo to the 100 TPC organization. In addition to poems, he also writes short stories, essays, literary reviews, traveltales, etc. Faruk Buzhala is an organizer and manager of many events in Ferizaj. His poems have been translated to English, Italian, Spanish, French, German, Croatian and Chinese, and are published in anthologies in the USA, Italy, Mexico, Albania, China, etc.

He has published five books : “Qeshje Jokeriane” (Jokerian Smile) 1998 , “Shtëpia pa rrugë” (House without road) 2009 , “Njeriu me katër hije” (Man with four shadows) 2012, “Shkëlqim verbërues” (Blinding brilliance) 2015, and “Një gur mangut” (A stone less) 2018.