GERİYE KALAN ŞİİRİNİN KARADAĞCA ÇEVİRİSİ
MONTENEGRIAN TRANSLATION OF THE POEM

OSTAJU HLADNA SRCA

Pogledao sam u ogledalo i čovjek se pojavio u njemu
Gledao me je suzama koje polako potekoše iz očiju
Suzama i nepopravljivim ranama koje kliču u duši
I sve što ostade je blijedo srce

Otišli su, nikada se više neće vratiti
Može li duša umrijeti dok živi? Bezvremenski
Ne dozvoli mi da plačem u čudno veče, dovoljan je klarinet
Raspršen sam poput vode u olujnom vjetru

Mjehur si od sapunice, ne diraj mi srce
Je li tvoje razočarano? Slomljena ogledala
Nemoj sada ići, ostani sa mnom uz klarinet, počinje kiša
Hajde, valjani duvan može biti predjelo za rakiju…

Svijet bez boje, blijed i toplo svijetlo
Sjećanja, sjećanja… Ona koja ostaju u umu
Jesi li ikada pogledala u ogledalo dok ti je srce puno bola?
Blijeda srca ne pišu na nadgrobnim spomenicima

Duša ne umire, ostaje u ogledalu, mnoge sam vidio
Gledao sam u nebo i vidio zvijezde, usamljene
Jesi li ikada ležala i gledala u nebo?
Blijedo i umorno srce ostalo je pored zvijezda…

Translated to Montenegrin by Anđela Turukalo Dabetić

GERİYE KALAN SOLGUN YÜREKLER
Aynaya baktım aynadan bir adam
Baktı yüzüme usulca gözünden akan
Tomurcuk yaşlarla ve ruhunda onmaz yaralarla
Ve geriye kalan solgun bir yürek

Gittiler, gittiler dönmemecesine
Ruh, yaşarken ölebilir mi? Zamansız
Tuhaf bir akşam ağlatma klarnet yeter
Su misali fırtınaların rüzgârında savruldum

Sabunun köpüğü gibisin değme yüreğime
Hüsran oldu mu yüreğiniz? Kırılmış aynalar
Gitme artık klarnet bende kal yağmur başladı
Gel tütün sar, rakıya meze olur ve belki…

Renksiz bir dünya solgun ve ılık aydınlık
Anılar, anılar… Hatıralarda geriye kalanlar
Elem dolu yüreğinizle hiç aynaya baktınız mı?
Mezar taşlarında yazmaz solgun yürekler

Ruh ölmez aynada kalır nicelerini gördüm
Gökyüzüne baktım yıldızları gördüm, yalnızlar
Toprağa uzanıp gökyüzüne baktınız mı?
Yıldızların yanında geriye solgun ve yorgun bir yürek kaldı…
—

GERİYE KALAN ŞİİRİNİN İNGİLİZCESİ

REMAINING COLD HEARTS

I looked in the mirror and a man appeared in the mirror
He looked at my face with tears slowly flowing from his eyes.
With tears and irreparable wounds sprouting in your soul
And all that’s left is a pale heart

They left, never to return again
Can the soul die while living? Untimely
Don’t make me cry on a strange evening, clarinet is enough
I’m blown away like water in a storm wind

You’re like a soap bubble, don’t touch my heart
Is your heart disappointed? broken mirrors
Don’t go now, stay with me for the clarinet, it’s starting to rain
Come on, the rolled tobacco may be an appetizer for raki…

A world colorless, pale and warmly bright
Memories, memories… Those that remain in memories
Have you ever looked in the mirror when your heart was full of pain?
Pale hearts don’t write on tombstones

The soul does not die, it remains in the mirror, I have seen it many times
I looked at the sky and saw the stars, they were alone
Have you ever laid down and looked at the sky?
A pale and tired heart remained next to the stars…

Hello, I am a university literature teacher. I start lessons with poetry. However, for some reason poetry is rarely read in my country. Yes, there are many writers of poetry, but very few of the lyrical genre… The world becomes more beautiful with art and artistic movements.Everything in life is based on economy. However, they continue their budget or work that does not change during the war, reducing people’s standard of living.For example; A pair of forest lakes are humming in the corner of your forehead. Do we hear about marble? Can we understand what he is whispering? Does the phrase “don’t forget me, don’t forget me” find us coming out of the piles of stones and through the museum doors? Who were they, what were they, what were they? …

I think you should think about these a little…

BIOGRAPHY
Mustafa Gökçek was born on 02.10.1953 in Gaziantep. He completed his primary education in the city where he was born and his secondary and high school education in İzmir, where he continued his education and life. Writer/Poet/Playwright and theater trainer-director Mustafa Gökçek completed his high school education at DTCF in Ankara after these studies. His literary life, which started with poetry at the age of 12, 13, like some writers, continued his literary life with the publication of his first story in various newspapers and magazines from the age of 16:

Attempt;

– “Essays – 1 (two editions)” (1973 / 1985 influence)
– “The Trials – 2 (From the Pain of Life…)” (1991-effect)
– “Essays- 3 (Cheap Words…) (1993- Çağrı Publishing House)

The author, who entered the world of literature with his book “Demeler (2 Editions)” published in the 1970s, as a result of retouching the stories and novels he wrote in previous dates;

NOVEL;

– “Gain” (1999 – Yom)
– “Humpback Kati” (1989 – University Publishing. Bookstore)
– “The Furious World” (1980 – University Press. Bookstore
– “The Apprentice” (1995 – Yom)
– “The Bus” (2000)
– “Murtaza” (1999)
– “It’s Spring Outside” (3 Editions), (1989 – Cem)
– “The Last Claps – Youth Novel” (2001)
– “A Free Call – Volume 1” (2002)
– “A Free Call – Volume 2” (2003)
– “Great Sorrow” (2016 – Messenger, Doğu Kitapevi)
– “Coat Sea” (2021 – Messenger, Doğu Bookstore)
– “Times in the Days of Corona” (2021- Messenger, Doğu Bookstore)

STORY;

– “Facts, 11 Stories” (1979 – University)
– “The Sun on the Horizon, 10 Stories” (University)
– “My Shadow Has Fallen into Water” (1996 – Leyal Publishing House / Hürriyet Newspaper Sedat Simavi Foundation Short Story Award)
– “Good Will (Haldun Taner Short Story Award)” (2000)
– “Compass (published in France)” (2001)

THEATRE;

– “Mektephane, two acts (Experimental theater)” (Staged and published by the University / 2000)

MOVIE SCENARIO;

– “Stay here, don’t go” (2000)
– “Far Lands…” (2001)
– “I’m Here” (2003)
– The game “Pavement Engineer” was filmed as a series. (2004)

POEM;

– “First” (2002 – Impact)
– “Red Dawns Flowing From My Mountains” (1985 – Icarus)
– “The Pain of Life” (1990)
– “Lonely Trees” (1980 – yom)
– “My Age is in the Siege – Madimak is Burning” (2000 – Impact)
– “Amber, Efkar, Longing” (2004 – Impact)
– “My Old Friends” (2006)

INTERPRETATION AS BOOK REVIEW AND CRITICAL (Journal and newspaper articles);

– “Hours of Interpretation- 1” (2015)
– “Hours of Interpretation- 2” (2016)
– “Hours of Interpretation-3” (2017)
– “Hours of Interpretation-4” (2018)
– “Hours of Interpretation-5” (2019)
– “Hours of Interpretation-6” (2020)
– “Hours of Interpretation-7” (2021)

ARTICLES I WROTE;

– “Theatre Education” (1994 / University Publication.)
– “Diction-Phonetics” (1996 / Textbook, University Publication)
– “Pronunciation Trainings” (1997 – University Publication)
– “On Coffee” (2001 / World, General Release to All Countries)
– “Being Enlightened” ( 2003 – University / Universal Journal – Partner)

– “The Place and Importance of Theater in Contemporary Society” (Universal Magazine publication)
– “Political Literature” (columns published in Haber Hürriyet Newspaper)
– Newspaper columns (article type); Since 1987…
– A total of 85/95 scientific articles

In total as publications; He has over 50 publications…

In addition to the books published with their names, some of the poems and books of the author were published in Azerbaijan, Bulgaria, the Netherlands, England and Russia. One of his short stories was published in France and he collaborated in Russia and and Mexico, Korea, Greece, America, Japan, Azerbaijan, Sarajevo (Bosnia and Herzegovina), Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, Tatarstan, England, Sarajevo, Albania, Croatia… And many more! . An award from the Sedat Simavi Foundation of Turkey and a Haldun Taner short story award, a medal for one of his short stories from France (Puslu Ayna) and an award from Ankara University. And right now (covid-19 days due to the flow of life); He is preparing a historical novel with a novel titled “Times in the Days of Corona”. Also on behalf of; In Seferihisar-Ürkmez Youth Center, a Memorial and Study Room and a Library were opened in his name… A few of my poems were translated into English and Spanish on Mexican radio and performed there as well.

Author, TYS (Turkish Writers’ Union), PEN (International Writers’ Union), TÜRKGEB (Founder of Young Writers’ Union of Turkey), İZMES (Founder-President of İzmir Literature-Art Group) TÜRKYES (Turkey Publishing, Literature, Art – Founder, Honorary President) is a member of İZSES (Founder of İzmir Art and Literature Conversations) and the International Union of Activist Artists, and currently continues to write in the newspaper “Haber Hürriyet” and the website-newspaper www.haberhürriyet.com-.

YES

CIGANKA SA KARANFILIMA

Kao da je sumnjiče za zločin,
za sve grijehe grada…
Miris karanfila nečujno svlači,
grabi te i vuče na mjesečinu
ogoljena ritualna čulnost
dok zvone zvonca sa narukvice.

Sa paklenim narom i zavodničkom strašću,
ona je beznadežan ludak, besramna lisica
što krsti srca cvijeća.
Kad padne veo, počinje čarolija.
Dan pred svadbu makovi cvjetaju
i krsti tvoje oči.

Žudiš za mirisima histeričnih tajni,
za tihim skidanjem na tvom prozoru.
Vladaš sopstvenom vladavinom.
Posljednji si kralj, svrgnut.
Iz prošlih vremena tvog sna
vjetar ispunjava ti pluća.
Svaki je uzdah spaljen.

Ponovo si običan smrtnik.
Veseliš se na večernjim zabavama.
Neka svira do Sudnjeg dana,
niko ne mora znati o tome:
da ona igra uz ritam činela,
plesačica bez lica u tvojoj veni.
Bezobrazna, nezasita ciganka…

Translated to Montenegrin by Anđela Turukalo Dabetić
……………………………………………..

KARANFİLLİ ÇİNGENE

Zan altına sokarcasına
Tüm günahlarını şehrin
Sessizce soyunur kokusu karanfilin
Tutup ay ışığına sürükler seni
çırılçıplak ritüel şuhluğu
Yazması oyalı zilli çengilerin

Cehennem narıyla füsunkâr
O meczup umutsuz müfteri cadaloz
Yüreklerini çarmıhlar çiçeklerin
Bir tesettür telaşıdır başlar
Düğün arifesi gelinciklerin
Gözlerinde istavroz

Kokuları isterik dişil gizemler
Sessizce soyunur pencerende
Sen kendi saltanatının
Son kralısındır devrik
Bir evvel zaman düşünde
İmbatlar dolar ciğerine
Tüm nefesleri kavruk

Demkeş bir fanisindir yine
Şad olup akşamların rindine
Bırakın kıyamete kadar çalsın
İçindeki çengi kime ne
Ve meşk edip zillerin ahengine
Raksetsin damarında o yüzsüz
Doyumsuz çingene

2007 yılında Kültür ve Turizm Bakanlığına bağlı olarak çalıştığım Tekirdağ İl Kültür ve Turizm Müdürlüğünden ayrılarak emekli oldum.
Turizm zorunlu olarak çalıştığım bir meslekti. Ancak Kültür tarafı benim sevdiğim işti. Çocuk yaşlarından beri okumayı severim. Nerede ise tüm dünya klasiklerinden birçok eser okudum. Okumanın anlamı hiçbir zaman benim için diploma almak olmadı. Kendimi yetiştirme adına merak ettiğim her konuyu araştırdım. Birlikte zaman gecirdigim dostlarım benim çok iyi bir gözlemci olduğumu söylerler.
Sahip olduğum birikimin yanında şiir yazarken gözlemlerim ön plana çıkar.
Ülke gezmeyi, yeni kültürler tanımayı, doğanın mucizevi güzelliğini ve nerede ise tüm canlıları severim.
Genç yaşlarımda güreş sporu yaptım. Çok basariliydım. Ülkemde insan kayırma olmasa belki tüm dünya adımı duyabilirdi. Ama bu ülkede kazanmak yetmiyor. Bir keresinde serbest yüzme yarışmasında üçüncü olmuştum. Karaya ayak basınca elendigimi öğrendim. Çok acı bir deneyimdi.
Yeteneğim olmamasına rağmen müzigi çok severim ve kendi kendime nota öğrenerek ud çalmasını başardım. Yüzmeyi, ellerim üzerinde yürümeyi, takla atmayı, yabancı dilleri kendi kendime öğrendim.
Şiir benim için uzun zamandan beri bir yaşam biçimi oldu. Sanırım şiirde en çok başarılı bulunan yanım hicv sanatı. Tüm haksızlıklara karşı kara mizah yapmak bir alışkanlık haline geldi.

Zeus uyurken Promethe’nin ateşten bir miktar çalarak dağın eteğindeki insanlara taşıdığı söylenir. Şiir ateş gibidir. Toplumları aydınlatır. Zamanın kodaman tanrıları bunun için şairleri hiç sevmez.
Nazım Hikmetin hayatı hapiste ve gurbette geçmiştir.
Ülkemizin geleceğini hiç iyi görmüyorum. Büyük önderimiz Atatürk’ün
Yurtta barış, dünyada barış diyerek kurduğu bu ülkede iç barış maalesef tamir olamayacak kadar bozulmuştur. Bunu milli gelir dengelerinden görüyoruz. İç barış sosyal barış ile başlar. Kazançlar arasında adeta bir uçurum oluşmuştur.
Sozkonusu barışı tesis etmek için Türkiye Cumhuriyeti’nin fabrika ayarlarına geri dönmesi şarttir. Ülkede üretim bitmiştir.
Bu barışın yeniden tesis edilmesinde şairlerin üzerinde büyük sorumluluk vardır. Gerçek ve bilinçli şairlerimiz çogaldiginda elbette toplum daha çok aydınlanacak tür. Ve aydınlanma ilerlemek ve toplumsal barış için en güçlü enstrümandır.

1. Poets’ Kardanadam (2014)
2. Poets’, Güz Sancıları (2023)

3. Novel, Naziler İstanbul’da (2012)

YES

Oh, Panojata…

Oh, moja predivna Panojata
Dođi na moj stari ribarski brod
Povešću te na vožnju

Dozvoli mi da ti stavim kapljicu mjesečine u kosu
Ti si cvijet strpljenja
I svakih sedam godina srce ti se otvara

Vidjesmo ga u magli tokom sukoba
Grm se uzdigao iz guste crne šume

U svakom slučaju, tuga ostaje za noć
Dvorac Engüzek čeka bandite

Prelijepa si, Panojata
Uništena tokom francuske revolucije
Propala si i usamljena kao dvorac Boncourt

Dođi, dozvoli mi da te upoznam sa Šamisoom
Sa pjesnikom koji je čitao i razumio Homera

Takođe je pisao pjesme
Malim djevojčicama poput tebe
I vašim lutkama

Endimion je svirao čarobne i vesele melodije na svojoj fruli
Latmos planine postaše radosne
A boginja Selena je čula i obradovala se

Nema povratka sada, moja predivna
Prešli smo granicu
Lokusta nas zatim truje

Koliko granica treba preći?
Da bi ljudi pronašli
I upoznali sebe

Plath, koje tvoje pjesme ja znam?
Panojata, zašto si i ti izabrala samoubilački put?

Kakve Murtaze vidjesmo da bjehu vjerni svojoj dužnosti?
Kakve češke nasilnike?
Vidjeli smo mnogo dubara koji rasipaju svoj neočekivani dobitak

Ovo je posljednja rapsodija
Posljednje kockice su bačene
Kocke su uvijek bile varljive
I izgubili smo

Dođavola, nestasmo bez riječi.
Topili smo se u beskrajnom vinu

katastrofalne poplave
strašni ratovi
Potresi koji su potresli svijet

Oluje što tresu planine
Vatre koji sve spaljuju
Epidemije koje se šire svuda
Glad koja sve pustoši

Zli ljudi svakim danom čine svijet gorim.
Ljudi su skoro izgubili nadu u čovječanstvo

Da lažemo jer ne možemo podnijeti?
Čak i sami sebi
Postajemo li manji dok lažemo?
Lažemo li kako postajemo manji?

Mrtvi ne lažu
Nema ni bijesa ni tuge u tvojim očima
Samo beskrajna mržnja
tvrđa od nadgrobne ploče

Nesrećna sniježna oluja
Skrivena u portretu tužne i prelijepe žene

Kao da si novorođena osoba
Budi oprezna
Svijet je pun vukova, težak je zadatak

Ispod tri crvena brijesta
Mecima postrojiše tri mlada čovjeka

Oni nisu mrtvi
Pokopani su u poeziji

Pjesnici imaju snažnu intuiciju
Odmah prepoznaju loše ljude

Postojaće neko ko nosi sve tvoje izgubljene snove
Mračne nade iznenada postaju svjetlije

Safo pjeva svojim lirskim jezikom
Snažan zvuk lire povezuje zaljubljene

Oh, moja predivna Panojata
Dođi kao kod lađara Faona na moj stari ribarski brod
Preda mnom se pojavljuješ predivna kao Afrodita
Povešću te na vožnju

Pređimo tamnu rijeku Orfejevu
Krenimo ka svijetloj vatri Prometejevoj…

Adil BAŞOĞUL…

Translated to Montenegrin by Anđela Turukalo Dabetić

OH PANOIATA…

Oh my beautiful Panoyata
Come to my old fishing boat
Let me take you around

Let me put a splash of moon blue in your hair
You are the flower of patience
And every seven years your heart opens

We saw him in the fog during the conflict
The bush rose from a dense black forest

In any case, sadness remains in the night
Engüzek Castle waits for bandits

You are beautiful Panoyata
destroyed in the French revolution
You are ruined and lonely like the castle of Boncourt

Come, let me introduce you to Chamisso
With the poet who read and understood Homer

He also wrote poems
To little girls like you
And to your dolls

Endymion played magic and merry songs on his pipe
Latmos mountains became joyful
And Goddess Selene heard and rejoiced

There’s no turning back now, my beautiful
We crossed the line
Locusta poisons us then

How many borders must be crossed?
For people to find themselves
And to know yourself

Plath, what poems do I know from you?
Panoyata, why did you choose suicide too?

What kind of Murtazas have we seen who are loyal to their duty?
What kind of Czecho bullies?
We saw many dubaras wasting their windfalls

This is the last rhapsody
The last dice are cast in craps
The dice were always tricky
And we lost

Hell, we passed away without words.
We melted in an endless wine

flood disasters
terrible wars
Earthquakes that shook the world

Storms shaking the mountains
Fires that burn everything
Epidemic diseases that spread everywhere
Famines that devastated everyone

Evil people are making the world worse every day.
People are about to give up hope on humanity

Do we lie because we can’t handle it?
Even to ourselves
Do we become smaller as we lie?
Do we lie as we become smaller?

The dead don’t lie
There is neither anger nor sorrow in your eyes
Just endless hatred
harder than a tombstone

An unhappy snowstorm
Hidden in the portrait of a sad and beautiful woman

It’s like you’re a newborn person
Be careful
The world is full of wolves, a difficult table

Under three redbud trees
They lined three young people to poetry with bullets

They are not dead
They were buried in poetry

Poets have strong foresight and intuition.
They recognize bad people immediately

There will be someone who carries all your lost dreams
Dark hopes suddenly become brighter

Sappho sings with her lyrical language
The magnificent sound of the lyre binds lovers

Oh my beautiful Panoyata
Come like handsome boatman Phaon to my old fishing boat
A beautiful court like Aphrodite appears before me
Let me take you around

Let’s cross Orpheus’ dark river
Let’s go to the bright fire of Prometheus…

Adil BAŞOĞUL…

AH PANOYATA…

Ah Panoyata güzelim
Gel eski balıkçı kayığıma
Seni gezdireyim

Saçlarına serpuş ay mavisi takayım
Sen sabır çiçeğisin
Ve her yedi yılda bir açar yüreğin

Çatışmada sisler içindeydi gördük onu
Çalılık sık kara bir ormandan doğuyordu

Her hâlükârda hüzün kalır geceye
Engüzek Kalesi eşkıya bekler

Sen Panoyata güzelim
Fransız devriminde yerle bir edilen
Boncourt şatosu gibi yıkık ve kimsesizsin

Gel seni Chamisso ‘yla tanıştırayım
Homeros’u okuyup anlayan şairle

O da şiirler yazdı
Senin gibi küçük kızlara
Ve oyuncak bebeklerine

Endymion kavalıyla sihirli şen şarkılar çaldı
Latmos dağları şenlendi
Ve Tanrıça Selene duydu sevindi

Geri dönüş yok artık güzelim
Çizgiyi aştık
Locusta zehirler sonra bizi

Kaç sınır geçmesi gerekir
İnsanın kendini bulması için
Ve kendini bilmesi için

Plath senden ne şiirler bilirim
Panoyata sen de intiharı seçtin niçin

Biz ne görevine sadık Murtazalar gördük
Hem nasıl Çeko kabadayılar
Nice dubaraların düşeşleri harcadığını gördük

Bu son rapsodi
Barbutta son zarlar atıldı
Hep hileliydi zarlar
Ve biz kaybettik

Fenafillah sözsüz göçüp gittik
Sonsuz bir şarapta eridik

Sel felaketleri
Korkunç savaşlar
Dünyayı yerinden oynatan depremler

Dağları sarsan fırtınalar
Her şeyi yakan yangınlar
Her yeri saran salgın hastalıklar
Herkesi kıran kıtlıklar

Her geçen gün dünyayı daha kötüye sürüklüyor kötüler
İnsanlar insanlıktan ümidini kesmek üzere

Başa çıkamadığımız için mi yalan söyleriz
Kendimize bile
Yalan söyledikçe mi küçülürüz
Küçüldükçe mi yalan söyleriz

Ölüler yalan söylemez
Gözlerinde ne öfke ne de keder
Sadece sonsuz bir nefret
Mezar taşından sert

Mutsuz bir kar fırtınası
Hüzünlü ve güzel bir kadının portresinde saklı

Sanki yeni doğmuş bir insansın
Dikkat et
Dünya kurtlarla dolu zor sofra

Üç erguvan ağacının altında
Üç genci kurşunla şiire dizdiler

Onlar ölmediler
Şiire gömüldüler

Şairlerin öngörüsü ve ön sezgileri güçlüdür
Kötü insanları hemen tanırlar

Kaybettiğiniz bütün hayallerinizi taşıyan biri çıkar
Birden aydınlanır karanlık umutlar

Sappho lirik diliyle söyler şarkılar
Lirin müthiş sesi aşıkları bağlar

Ah Panoyata güzelim
Yakışıklı kayıkçı Phaon gibi gel eski balıkçı kayığıma
Aphrodite gibi güzel kurul karşıma
Seni gezdireyim

Orpheus’un karanlık nehrinden geçelim
Prometheus’un aydınlık ateşine gidelim…

Adil BAŞOĞUL…
……………………………………………..

my CV

I was born in Inece, Kırklareli, the city of happy people.
I graduated from Kırklareli Atatürk High School.
I graduated from Istanbul University, Faculty of Literature, Department of Philosophy.
I worked as a journalist for the newspaper Günaydın for 4 years in Istanbul.
My poetry books:
LYRICALS – SYMPHONOICS – THOSE IN THE HEARTS IN THE HEARTS – YUNUS GÖLÜM – INNOVATIVE LOVES – SEPARATIONS
I wanted to say hello to you, my dear friends.
I work in the fields of philosophy, sociology, psychology, personal development, art and literature.
I write especially poetry, book reviews, literature, poetry articles and aphorisms.
My works have been published and continue to be published in international art, literature and poetry journals.
Example:
Spanish in AZAHAR magazine in Spain.
English in Lights For The City magazine in Spain.
La Posta in Italy in OGGI magazine in Italian
English in the magazine ART And POETRY PROJECT in Italy
POETIC GALAXY ANTHOLOGY ALTUNIS in Belgium English
In Turkish and Balkan languages in TÜRKÇEM magazine in Bulgaria.
My Persian poems were published in the GHOROOB magazine in Iran and continue to be published.
In Turkey:
CAZKEDİSİ – SOUTH – TURKISH LANGUAGE – ZİL – Plum TREE – STRRANCA – KARAKEDİ – CRAZY BOAT – CLAIMING – CITY – USARE – TOLERANCE – BLUE – RAINBOW – BERFIN BAHAR – ESKİŞEHİR ART – ÖZGÜR ART – OZGÜR ART – İZGÜR MİTORO FOOD Current Art – A Pencils – Cumba Fanzin – Totem Write – Delikliçınar – Pity – Eliz Edebiyat – Fancat – Fifth Art – Mersin Literature – Cüneyne – Life Art – Cumhuriyet Book – Tile Book – Başakketi of Literature BLUE – Script – SUJE – VESSELAM – AKAŞA – LEYLIDER – EKIN ART – KEŞMEKEŞ – PAPYRUS – KURGAN – HUMANITY – PENCIL – DIVIT PENS – TEAWAY – Poetry Cistern – YARPUZ – NIF ART – ARTEMIS –
My poems, articles and book reviews have been published and continue to be published in art, literature and poetry journals such as KİRPİ – PUBLIC LITERATURE.
My articles and book reviews have been published in CUMHURİYET KİTAP JOURNAL and many literary journals.
Let’s meet in beautiful beauty and success.
Love…

Adil BAŞOĞUL…
090 0532 638 46 56 my phone. basoguladil@gmail.com is my e-mail address.

Saltuklu Mahallesi
Milli Egemenlik Caddesi
İkbal Sokak
BAŞAKKENT YAPI KOOPERATİFİ SİTESİ D2 Blok
Kat: 4 D: 5 Dadaşkent

AZİZİYE. / ERZURUM

TÜRKİYE

MOJ BIVOTOPIS Rođen sam u Kırklareli İnece, gradu sretnih ljudi. Završio sam srednju školu Kırklareli Atatürk. Diplomirao sam na Univerzitetu u Istanbulu, Fakultet književnosti, odsjek filozofija. Radio sam kao novinar u novinama Günaydın u Istanbulu 4 godine. Moje knjige poezije: TEKST – SIMFONIKA – Stvari u srcu Stvari u srcu – YUNUS GÖLUM – NEVINE LJUBAVI – Raskidi Hteo sam da vas pozdravim, dragi prijatelji. Radim u oblastima filozofije, sociologije, psihologije, ličnog razvoja, umetnosti i književnosti. Posebno pišem poeziju, prikaze knjiga, književnost, pjesničke članke i aforizme. Moji radovi su objavljivani i objavljuju se u međunarodnim časopisima o umjetnosti, književnosti i poeziji. primjer: Španski u časopisu AZAHAR u Španiji. English in Lights For The City magazin u Španiji. Italijanski u La Posti i OGGI magazinu u Italiji Časopis English in ART And POETRY PROJECT u Italiji POETSKA GALAKSIJA ANTOLOGIJA ALTUNIS Engleski u Belgiji Na turskom i balkanskom jeziku u časopisu TÜRKÇEM u Bugarskoj. Moje perzijske pjesme su objavljene i nastavljaju se objavljivati ​​u časopisu GHOROOB u Iranu. U Turskoj: JAZZCAT – JAZ – TURSKI JEZIK – ZVONO – ŠLJIVA – STRANCA – KARAKED – BROD MADIES – APLAUZ – GRAD – USARE – TOLERANCIJA – PLAVA – DUGA – BERFİN BAHAR – ESKİŞEHİZART – ESKİŞEHİZİR – SAN I MIT – MORTAKA – AKTUELNA UMJETNOST – OLOVKA – CUMBA FANZINE – TOTEM PISATI – DELİKLİ ÇINAR – YAZY – ELİZ KNJIŽEVNOST – FANCAT – BEŞİNCİ ART – MERSİN KNJIŽEVNOST – CÜNEYNE – CÜNEYİİİİ – KÜNEYNE – CUMLIHİ İTAP – PRESTONICA KNJIŽEVNOSTI – POVATARAC IZ GRADA – NOVAC – KAVLEN – NEBESKO PLAVO – Skripta – SUBJEKTA – VESSELAM – AKAŞA – LEYLİDER – EKİN SANAT – KEŞMEKEŞ – PAPIRUS – FIKCIJA – ČOVJEČANSTVO – DRŽAČ OLOVKA – DIVIT PEN – ÇARYZİF – YİARTYYON – YİARTYYON S – JEŽ – NARODNA KNJIŽEVNOST – Moje pjesme, članci i prikazi knjiga su se pojavljivali i pojavljuju u časopisima o umjetnosti, književnosti i poeziji kao npr. Moji članci i prikazi knjiga objavljeni su u CUMHURİYET KİTAP MAGAZINU i mnogim književnim časopisima. Upoznajmo se u mnogim ljepotama i uspjesima. Srdačan pozdrav… Adil BAŞOĞUL… Moj broj telefona je 090 0532 638 46 56. Moja e-mail adresa je basoguladil@gmail.com. SALTUKLU MAH. National Egemenlik Avenue Iqbal Street BAŞAKKENT SITE D2 Blok Sprat 4 D 5 DADAŠKENT SAINTIE. / ERZURUM Türkiye

ÖZGEÇMİŞİM

Mutlu insanlar kenti Kırklareli İnece doğumluyum.
Kırklareli Atatürk Lisesi’nden mezun oldum.
İstanbul Üniversitesi Edebiyat Fakültesi Felsefe Bölümü bitirdim.
İstanbul’da 4 yıl Günaydın gazetesinde gazetecilik yaptım.
Şiir kitaplarım:
LİRİKLİRİKLER – SENFONİKLER – YÜREKTEKİLER GÖNÜLDEKİLER – YUNUS GÖNLÜM – MASUMLAR SEVDALUKLAR – AYRULUKLAR
İle siz değerli dostlarıma bir merhaba demek istedim.
Felsefe, sosyoloji, psikoloji, kişisel gelişim, sanat, edebiyat alanlarında çalışmalar yapıyorum.
Özellikle şiir, kitap değerlendirmeleri edebiyat, şiir makaleleri ve aforizmalar yazıyorum.
Uluslararası sanat, edebiyat ve şiir dergilerinde eserlerim yayımlandı ve yayımlanmaya devam ediyor.
Örnek:
İspanya’da AZAHAR dergisinde İspanyolca.
İspanya’da Lights For The City dergisinde İngilizce.
İtalya’da La Posta da OGGI derginde İtalyanca
İtalya’da ART And POETRY PROJECT dergisinde İngilizce
Belçika’da POETIC GALAXY ANTHOLOGY ALTUNIS İngilizce
Bulgaristan’da TÜRKÇEM dergisinde Türkçe ve Balkan dillerinde.
İran’da GHOROOB dergisinde Farsça şiirlerim yayımlandı ve yayımlanmaya devam ediyor.
Türkiye’de ise:
CAZKEDİSİ – GÜNEY – TÜRK DİLİ – ZİL – ERİK AĞACI – ISTRANCA – KARAKEDİ – DELİLER TEKNESİ – ALKIŞ – ŞEHİR – USARE – TOLERANS – MAVİ – GÖKKUŞAĞI – BERFİN BAHAR – ESKİŞEHİR SANAT – ÖZGÜR SANAT – GENÇ FİKİR İVRİZ – DÜŞ VE MİTOS – MORTAKA – GÜNCEL SANAT – A KALEMLER – CUMBA FANZİN – TOTEM YAZIN – DELİKLİÇINAR – YAZIK – ELİZ EDEBİYAT – FANCAT – BEŞİNCİ SANAT – MERSİN EDEBİYAT – CÜNEYNE – YAŞAM SANAT – CUMHURİYET KİTAP – ÇİNİ KİTAP – EDEBİYATIN BAŞAKKENTİ – KASABADAN ESİNTİ – YENİ GELEN – KAVLEN – GÖK MAVİ – BETİK – SÜJE – VESSELAM – AKAŞA – LEYLİDER – EKİN SANAT – KEŞMEKEŞ – PAPİRÜS – KURGAN – İNSANCIL – KALEMLİK – DİVİT KALEM – ÇAYYOLU – ŞİİR SARNICI – YARPUZ – NİF SANAT – ARTEMİS –
KİRPİ – HALK EDEBİYATI – gibi sanat, edebiyat ve şiir dergilerinde şiirlerim, makalelerim ve kitap eleştirisi yazılarım çıktı ve çıkmaya devam ediyor.
CUMHURİYET KİTAP DERGİSİ’NDE ve birçok edebiyat dergisinde makalelerim ve kitap değerlendirmelerim yayımlandı.
Nice güzelliklerde ve başarılarda buluşalım.
Sevgiler…
Adil BAŞOĞUL…
090 0532 638 46 56 telefonum. basoguladil@gmail.com mail adresim.

SALTUKLU MAH.
Milli Egemenlik Caddesi
İkbal Sokak
BAŞAKKENT SİTESİ D2 Blok
Kat 4 D 5
DADAŞKENT
AZİZİYE. / ERZURUM
TÜRKİYE

Glavni problem i sukob mira u mojoj zemlji je ekonomska, pravna, politička eksploatacija i nepravda. Umjetnost, književnost i poezija ne mogu biti rješenja za ova pitanja, ali mogu pokazati ideje i načine rješenja. Ovom pesmom govorim svojoj zemlji i čovečanstvu; Cilj mi je bio otvoriti horizonte i dimenzije mišljenja kroz metaforičke, filozofske slike žene i pjesnika.
Adil BAŞOĞUL…

Ülkemde barışının temel sorunu ve çatışması ekonomik, hukuki, siyasal sömürü, haksızlıklardır.
Sanat, edebiyat ve şiir bu konulara çözüm olmaz ancak çözüm fikirleri, yolları gösterebilir.
Ben de bu şiirimle ülkeme ve insanlığa; barışı bir kadın ile şairin metaforik, felsefi, imge ve imajları ile ufuk ve düşünce boyutları açmayı amaçladım.
Adil BAŞOĞUL…

The main problem and conflict of peace in my country is economic, legal, political exploitation and injustice. Art, literature and poetry cannot be solutions to these issues, but they can show solution ideas and ways. With this poem, I say to my country and humanity; I aimed to open horizons and dimensions of thought through the metaphorical, philosophical images of a woman and a poet.
Adil BAŞOĞUL…

1 – LİRİKLİRİKLER
2- SENFONİKLER
3- MASUMLAR
4- SEVDALUKLAR
5- AYRULUKLAR
6- GÖNÜLDEKİLER
7- YÜREKTEKİLER
8 – YUNUS GÖNLÜM

YES

Savaş SARIKAYA

MOŽEŠ LI ME OBGRLITI BIJELIM KRILIMA?

Možeš li dodirnuti?
U snovima svojim, nebu
da li se moliš?
Jezicima koje znaš
Zvijezde zapaljene su zrele boli
Glad što proždire magle
plače li tihim suzama

Noću divlji vjetrovi šibaju
Šapati postaju bijeli
Možeš li me obgrliti bijelim krilima?
Dok mi tabani gore željom
Zašto drhtim od tvog toplog daha
Iz pepela gorućih snova
Crtam sive linije
Na tvojim bijelim krilima
I zidam svoje zidove od kamena
Gledam zvijezde što gore od bola
Znaš li koliko je bolno gorjeti

Sa koliko bolova bremenit je svijet
Koliko zvijezda gori
Šta je erupcija vulkana
Šta može biti veće od mog usijanja
Svaka moja ćelija je svemir
Svaki bol je goruća zvijezda
Je li boja bola zelena ili žuta
U kojoj boji mozak gori
Možeš li me obgrliti bijelim krilima
Može li tvoj vjetar raznijeti moj dim i maglu
Kolika je brzina svjetlosti
Dok padam iz tvojih kandži
Raspršujem se u svemir
Svaka moja ćelija je zvijezda
Dok padam odvaja se čestice od čestice
Moje boli
Koliko me možete rasparčati
Koliko me možete spaliti
Je li bol velika
Zbog eksplozije supernove
Kažu da ima sedam nebesa
Hoću li pasti kroz svih sedam
Je li svemir sačinjen od sedam slojeva?
Je li moja bol pomnožena sa sedam
Je li moja čestica podijeljena sa sedam

Koja je bol jača od boli moje duše
Može li se vidjeti JamesWebb teleskopom?
Može li vidjeti ranu moje duše?
Veliki prasak koji eksplodira u mojoj čestici
Oh boli svih svjetova
Oh vječni bolu
Može li tvoja veličina stati u česticu mene?
Da li univerzum pati?
Kao jedna moja čestica
Možeš li me obgrliti bijelim krilima
Koja uspavanka me smiruje, koja priča me uspavljuje
Da li bolovi i gladi čine ljude
Zar pakao ne zagrijava česticu moje duše
Gori li u mom usijanom plamenu
Može li čovječanstvo izbjeći spaljivanje
Koja vaga mjeri moj grijeh
Koji jaram teže pada od mog bola
Kojom cijenom se plaća moja namjera
Koji nož reže moju nakanu, moje meso
Zbogom
Odlazim i ostavljam kaput

Translated to Montenegrin by Anđela Turukalo Dabetić
…………………………………………..

BEYAZ KANATLARINLA SARABİLİR MİSİN USUMU

Dokunabilir misin?
Rüyalarında gökyüzüne
Dua eder misin?
Bildiğin lisanlarla
Yanan yıldızlar acılarla olgunlaştı
Açlığın sislerini kemiren acı
Diner mi sessiz gözyaşlarıyla

Geceleri vahşi rüzgârlar esiyor
Fısıltılar beyaza bürünmüş
Yumuşak kanatlarınla saklar mısın?
Tabanlarım yanarken arzu ile
Ilık nefesinle titriyorum neden
Yanan hayallerimin külünden
Gri çizgiler çiziyorum
Beyaz kanatlarının üstüne
Ve taşından kendi duvarlarımı örüyorum
Yalnız gökyüzünde acıyla yanan yıldızları görüyorum
Bilir misin ne acıdır yanmak

Kaç acıya daha gebe kâinat
Kaç yıldız var yanan
Volkanların patlaması ne ki
Ne büyük olabilir usumun patlamasından
Her bir hücrem kâinata denk
Her bir acı yanan bir yıldız
Yeşil midir sarı mıdır acının en derin rengi
Beyin hangi renkte yanar
Beyaz kanatlarınla sarabilir misin usumu
Dağıtabilir mi rüzgârın dumanımı sisimi
Işın hızı ne ki
Düşerken gövdem pençelerinden
Dağılmakta kâinata kanım
Her bir zerresi bir yıldız
Düşerken zerreden zerre kopmakta
Ey acılarım
Beni ne kadar bölebilirsiniz
Beni ne kadar yakabilirsiniz
Büyük müdür acılar
Bir novanın patlamasından
Arş için yedi kat derler
Düşer miyim yedi kat birden
Kâinat da yedi kat mıdır?
Yediyle mi çarpıldı acılarım
Yediye mi bölündü zerrem

Hangi acı daha acıdır ruhumun acısından
JamesWebb teleskobu görebilir mi?
Ruhumdaki yarayı görebilir mi?
Zerremde patlayan BigBang’ i
Ey kâinatın bütün acıları
Ey ezeli ve ebedi acılar
Büyüklüğünüz sığar mı zerremin zerresine
Acı çeker mi kâinat
Bir zerrem kadar
Beyaz kanatlarınla sarabilir misin usumu
Hangi ninni avutur beni hangi masal uyutur
Acılar mı büyütür insanı açlık mı?
Cehennem ısıtır mı ruhumun zerresini
Yanar mı usumun yangınında
Kurtulur mu insanlık yanmaktan
Hangi terazi tartar günahımı
Hangi okka ağır gelir acılarımdan
Hangi bedel öder diyetimi
Hangi bıçak keser niyetimi, etimi
Hoşça kalın
Bırakıp gidiyorum ceketimi

U

Ben doğuştan şairim. Okumayı ve yazmayı bilmeden önce şiirler söyler, masallar anlatırdım.
İki şiir kitabım var. Bir çok antolojide yer aldım. Şiirlerim 25 kadar dile çevrildi. 20 den fazla ülkede yayınlandı. Aydın Yazarlar ve Şairler Derneği Başkan Yardımcısıyım. Aydın Efesi Kültür Sanat Edebiyat Dergisini çıkartıyoruz.

Millet olarak biz barışçıl bir milletiz. Bizim önderimiz Mustafa Kemal Atatürk ” Yurtta Sulh Cihanda Sulh” diyerek bize yol gösterici olmuştur.
Şiir Dünya barışı için son derece gereklidir. Duygularını anladığımız insanlarla daha samimi oluruz.

1. Adını Sen Koy Şiirler 2001
2. Ben Hiçbir Lisan Bilmem Şiirler 2023

YES

MARES DE CRISTAL (SPANISH)
Por Teresa Mascarenhas

Cómo acróbatas,
en un tiempo que comienza a desfallecer,
bailarines sin compás sobre mares de cristal.
El viejo reloj de arena con su voz agrietada
salpicando nostalgias en las miradas…
Y las estaciones, corrompidas en su latido
desigual, lento y tardío.

Hoy resucitaremos instantes
pateando nuestros pies en las aceras,
escribiremos una ilusión
sobre nuestras manos calcinadas,
y mañana danzaremos
sobre el sutil lecho
de mil rosas muertas.

Como hojas de otoño
entrelazadas a una brisa de levante,
seremos sombras de un presente,
refugiados de nuestra propia guerra.
Seremos la sequía de nuestros campos,
y el tronco del árbol que nunca plantamos.
Seremos lobos hambrientos de vida,
aullando bajo un gris contaminado.

Podrán nuestros corazones viajar descalzos
mil millones de millas más
sobre las frágiles cuerdas del universo
antes de que al fin, amanezca.
Mientras; la deforestación cubrirá nuestras cabezas,
el oxígeno superará nuestra respiración
y la migración será un caos que no cobijará esperanzas.

Se dormirán los arrecifes de coral
entre las roídas sábanas de plástico,
rugirán los grandes colosos en su deshielo,
y se oirá el quebranto de las ballenas
mientras caen en las profundidades de un lamento.

Caminaremos sobre las heridas del vientre de nuestra madre,
siguiendo uno a uno los pasos aturdidos de nuestro destino.
Iniciaremos el vuelo perdido de las aves…
Como acróbatas,
danzaremos sin compás…
Sobre mares de cristal.

SEAS OF GLASS (ENGLISH)
By Teresa Mascarenhas

How acrobats,
in a time that begins to fade,
dancers without a beat on seas of glass.
The old hourglass with its cracked voice
splashing nostalgia in the glances…
And the seasons, corrupted in their beat
uneven, slow and late.

Today we will resurrect instants
kicking our feet on the pavements,
we will write an illusion
on our burnt hands,
and tomorrow we will dance
on the subtle bed
of a thousand dead roses.

Like autumn leaves
entwined in an easterly breeze,
we will be shadows of a present,
refugees from our own war.
We will be the drought of our fields
and the trunk of the tree we never planted.
We will be wolves hungry for life,
howling under a polluted grey.

Will our hearts be able to travel barefoot
a billion more miles
on the fragile strings of the universe
before, at last, the dawn breaks.
Meanwhile; deforestation will cover our heads,
oxygen will outstrip our breath
and migration will be a hopeless chaos.

The coral reefs will fall asleep
between the gnawed plastic sheets,
the great giants will roar in their thaw,
and the whales will be heard breaching
as they fall into the depths of a wail.
We will walk on the wounds of our mother’s womb,
following one by one the dazed footsteps of our destiny.

We will start the lost flight of the birds…
Like acrobats,
we will dance without a beat…
On seas of crystal.

MORE OD STAKLA (MONTENEGRIN)
Teresa Mascarenhas

Kao akrobate,
u vremenu koje počinje da kopni,
plesači smo bez ritma na staklenim morima.
Stari pješčani sat puknutog glasa
zapljuskuje nostalgije u pogledima…
A godišnja doba, pokvarena u svom pulsu,
neravna su, spora i kasna.

Danas ćemo oživjeti trenutke
tupkajući nogama po trotoarima,
napisaćemo iluziju
na spaljenim rukama,
a sjutra ćemo plesati
na nježnom krevetu
od hiljadu mrtvih ruža.

Kao lišće jeseni
povezano s istočnim povjetarcem,
bićemo sjene sadašnjosti,
sklonjeni od vlastitog rata.
Bićemo suša naših polja,
i drveće koje nikada nismo posadili.
Bićemo vukovi gladni života,
urlaćemo pod sivim zagađenim nebom.

Naša srca mogu putovati bosa
milijardu milja još
po krhkim nitima svemira
prije nego svane.
Dok se deforestacija nadvija nad glavama,
kiseonik će prigušiti naše disanje,
a migracija će biti haos što ne pruža nadu.

Koralni grebeni zaspaće
u izgrickanim plastičnim plahtama,
veliki gigant zatutnjaće u otapanju,
i čućemo očaj kitova
dok tonu u dubine jada.

Hodaćemo po ranama utrobe naše majke,
slijedeći korak po korak našu zanesenu sudbinu.
Započećemo izgubljeni let ptica…
Kao akrobate,
plesaćemo bez ritma…
Po morima od stakla.

Translated to Montenegrin by Anđela Turukalo Dabetić

Nací al sur de España, en la ciudad de La Línea de la Concepción (Cádiz), vivo en Gibraltar. Cursé estudios de Educación Infantil.
Me considero una gran amante de la naturaleza y del senderismo, especialmente de viajar; la exploración de las diversas culturas y tradiciones que conforman cada nación, me resulta sumamente interesantes y fascinantes.
Mis principales aficiones son la poesía y la música, a las cuales dedico gran parte de mi tiempo. La pintura es otro de mis hobbies, al cual me gustaría dedicarme más plenamente en el futuro.
En el año 2022 publiqué mi primer libro de poesía “Latidos” con la editorial Círculo Rojo.
Soy miembro del grupo musical Mo Anam Cara junto a mi esposo John Adam Mascarenhas, (músico, cantante y compositor gibraltareño), grupo en el cual participo como letrista y en los arreglos musicales, así como en la edición de videos.
Nos dedicamos principalmente a la composición de música celta, aunque realmente trabajamos juntos los diferentes géneros y estilos musicales de todos los tiempos. Tenemos nuestra propia producción musical, M.A.C Studio Productions.
Nuestra primera canción llegó a ser semifinalista en el prestigioso concurso “Song of the Year” en Estados Unidos.
Actualmente, estoy involucrada en diversos proyectos literarios y musicales, así como en la elaboración de mi próximo libro.
En este año participé de la compilación poética “Canto Planetario Hermandad en la Tierra”, como poeta y traductora.
Escribo para diferentes periódicos y revistas nacionales e internacionales.
Miembro del movimiento Poetas del Mundo.

I was born in the south of Spain, in the city of La Línea de la Concepción (Cádiz), I live in Gibraltar. I studied Early Childhood Education.

I consider myself a great lover of nature and hiking, especially travelling; I find exploring the different cultures and traditions that make up each nation extremely interesting and fascinating.
My main hobbies are poetry and music, to which I dedicate a great deal of my time. Painting is another of my hobbies, to which I would like to devote myself more fully in the future.

In 2022 I published my first book of poetry “Latidos” with the publishing house Círculo Rojo.

I am a member of the musical group Mo Anam Cara together with my husband John Adam Mascarenhas, (musician, singer and composer from Gibraltar), in which I participate as a lyricist and in the musical arrangements, as well as in the editing of videos.
We are mainly dedicated to the composition of Celtic music, although we really work together in different genres and musical styles of all times. We have our own music production company, M.A.C Studio Productions.
Our first song became a finalist in the prestigious “Song of the Year” contest in the USA.

Currently, I am involved in various literary and musical projects, as well as in the development of my next book.
This year I participated in the poetry compilation “Canto Planetario Hermandad en la Tierra”, as a poet and translator.
I write for different national and international newspapers and magazines.
I am a member of the movement Poetas del Mundo.

De modo que la paz sea el auténtico pilar que nos guíe, debemos esforzarnos por alcanzar la igualdad, la solidaridad, el respeto, romper con la ausencia de comunicación existente; luchar unidos por la libertad, la justicia, la pobreza, el cambio climático, los derechos humanos y por todos esos grandes valores que nos enriquecen como seres humanos civilizados que somos.
Afrontar las innumerables discrepancias que se presentan y solucionarlas mediante una buena comunicación.
Debemos educarnos en todos estos principios.
Convivir en paz, aceptando y respetando las diferencias culturales, étnicas y religiosas de cada país, amar y cuidar a nuestra madre tierra, apreciando las grandes maravillas que nos rodea, protegiéndola a ella, protegemos nuestro hogar.

Vivir poéticamente significa vivir en armonía, en paz.
La poesía nos eleva a otro nivel en el cual podemos transmitir nuestros sentimientos, emociones, a través de los libros, de las lecturas, de realizar actividades que promuevan la paz, el amor, etc.
La poesía siempre logrará el equilibrio de nuestras mentes y de nuestro corazón, adquirirá valores como el respeto, la solidaridad, y la empatía entre tantos, estableciendo el continuo diálogo y erradicando conflictos.
Reflexionar a través de ella de nuestros errores y rehacernos nos ayudará a mejorar.

So that peace is the real pillar that guides us, we must strive for equality, solidarity, respect, break the existing lack of communication; fight together for freedom, justice, poverty, climate change, human rights and for all those great values that enrich us as civilised human beings that we are.
To confront the countless disagreements that arise and to resolve them through good communication.
We must educate ourselves in all these principles.
To live together in peace, accepting and respecting the cultural, ethnic and religious differences of each country, learning from each other and from what each person, regardless of their origin or religion, brings us in learning and knowledge.
Loving and caring for our mother earth, valuing the great wonders that surround us, protecting her, we protect our home.

Living poetically means living in harmony, in peace.
Poetry elevates us to another level in which we can transmit our feelings, emotions, through books, readings, activities that promote peace, love, etc.
Poetry will always achieve the balance of our minds and hearts, will acquire values such as respect, solidarity, and empathy among many, establishing continuous dialogue and eradicating conflicts.
Reflecting through it on our mistakes and remaking ourselves will help us to improve.

1. Latidos, poetry collection (2022)

NO

BIJELA CESTA

Izlazim na ulicu – bijelom cestom
vije se sa mog praga bijela vrpca.
Vije se od rođenja do posljednjeg sjećanja,
a briga o Otadžbini teret je srca.

Žive narodi svoje živote,
dovijeka se bore za svoju slobodu,
Neko žeđa za rajem, ubijajući istinu,
neko se prodaje za nagradu.

Neko, izdajući, iz života izbrisaće
domovinu, voljene, sve prijatelje i bližnje,
Tamo gdje se rodio neko koristiće,
živio je prost život bez stida i krivnje.

Vidim mnoge sudbine, slične i neslične,
nije svakom vijeku dopušteno proći
u miru i slozi. Gori u grudima briga.
Za ljude, za Zemlju, Bogu se molim.

Bijela vrpca vije se sa bijelog puta,
samo nema dijaloga s Bogom.
Svima su dati izbor, sreća i sloboda,
Svima su otvorena vrata plavog svoda.

Ne možeš ponijeti zlato i dragulje,
neka odjekuje svijetom drugačije mišljenje,
Kada je bijela cesta uljepšana djelima,
dočekaće te Bog, kuća i domovina.

Translated to Montenegrin by Anđela Turukalo Dabetić
Перевод на чермогорский язык Anđela Turukalo Dabetić
…………………………………………..

БЕЛАЯ ДОРОГА

Выхожу на улицу – белая дорога
Вьётся белой лентой с моего порога,
Вьётся от рожденья до последней тризны,
А в груди забота о судьбе Отчизны.

Проживают жизни целые народы,
И воюют вечно за свою свободу,
Кто-то рая жаждет, убивая правду,
Кто-то продаётся за свою награду.

Кто-то, предавая, вычеркнул из жизни,
Родину, любимых, всех друзей и ближних,
Кто-то пригодился, там же, где родился,
Жил простой он жизнью, жил и не стыдился.

Много вижу судеб, схожих и не схожих,
Далеко не каждый век прожить свой может,
В мире и согласье. Жжёт в груди тревога.
За людей, за Землю помолюсь я Богу.

Белой лентой вьётся белая дорога,
Только не выходит с Богом диалога.
Всем даётся воля, счастье и свобода,
Всем открыты двери голубого свода.

Не возьмёшь с собою злато и каменья,
Пусть звучит по миру дa другое мненье,
Коль красна делами белая дорога,
Возвратишься к дому, Родине и Богу.

I’m just a A WOMAN! I am fond of a lot of things in life: poetry is my favorite hobby. Music and reading are self-evident. I love philosophy in all its manifestations – in books, in life, in conversations, I love traveling, photographing, studying, always trying my hand at something new, unknown, but it should interest me and please me. I love everything beautiful, I love nature – there is no equal in this world, I am fond of the garden, although I am an architect by profession.
I DON’t LIKE: shopping, standing in line,

Я проживаю в мирной стране.
А во многих странах идёт вражда, борьба , войны.
Всё то, чего люди так боятся, и сами же провоцируют своей несдержанностью. Раньше говорили, что все войны начинаются из-за женщин. Видимо, или это миф, или времена переменились.
Сейчас войны происходят по глупости (моё личное мнение).
Поэзия не может остановить никакую войну, никакие военные действия не прекратятся, если вы или я, или все поэты мира начнут читать свои стихи о мире. Но все поэты мира могут своими стихами о красоте, о дружбе, о любви, о природе, о созидании(а не о разрушении и ужасах) нести в народ красивое, доброе вечное. И если с этим словом наступит пробуждение хоть в одной голове, если стихами можно спасти, излечить или облагородить хоть одного человека, то надо писать, писать и писать! И если каждый поэт мира пробудит к жизни хоть одну больную душу, то весь мир станет сразу светлым, мирным и добрым.

AUTHOR’S PUBLICATIONS
NATALI BISSO is the author of 13 poetry collections:

-Bisso N. – “MY SOUL COLOR SHIMMERS” (October 2012)
-Bisso N. – “FEELINGS CALLED BY LOVE” (February 2013)
-Bisso N. – “ON THE SHORES OF HOPE” (April 2013)
-Bisso N. – “LIFE IS A HOLY REWARD” (December 2013)
-Bisso N. – “WITH LOVE TO EVERYONE” (February 2015)
-Bisso N. – “MOSAIC OF FEELINGS” (May 2016)
-Bisso N. – “SOUL – PHILOSOPHER” (August 2016)
-Bisso N. – electronic book “ASSORTED”. ((2020)
-Bisso N. – “THE POETIC WISDOM OF CHINA” (2022)
-Bisso N. – “Assorted” (2023) (reprint- updated version)
-Bisso N. – “SOUL – PHILOSOPHER” ( 1) (2023) – (reprint- updated version)
-Bisso N. – “SOUL – PHILOSOPHER” ( 2) (2023) – (reissue- updated version)
-Bisso N. – “RIVERS OF TIME” (in the publishing house under processing)
Collective collections and anthologies: more than 150 books)
———————
АВТОРСКИЕ ИЗДАНИЯ
НАТАЛИ БИССО – Автор 13 поэтических сборников:

-Биссо Н. – “ДУШИ МОЕЙ ЦВЕТНЫЕ ПЕРЕЛИВЫ” (Октябрь 2012г.)
-Биссо Н. – “ЛЮБОВЬЮ ПРИЗВАННЫЕ ЧУВСТВА” (Февраль 2013)
-Биссо Н. – “НА БЕРЕГАХ НАДЕЖДЫ” (Апрель 2013)
-Биссо Н. – “ЖИЗНЬ ПРИНИМАТЬ СВЯТОЙ НАГРАДОЙ” (Декабрь 2013)
-Биссо Н. – “С ЛЮБОВЬЮ К КАЖДОМУ” (Февраль 2015 )
-Биссо Н. – “МОЗАИКА ЧУВСТВ” (Май 2016)
-Биссо Н. – “ДУША – ФИЛОСОФ” (Август 2016)
-Биссо Н. – электронная книга “АССОРТИ”. (2020г.)
-Биссо Н. – “THE POETIC WISDOM OF CHINA” (2022 г.)
-Биссо Н. – “Ассотри” 2. (2023г)
-Биссо Н. – “ДУША – ФИЛОСОФ” (книга 1) (2023г.) – (переиздание- обновлённый вариант)
-Биссо Н. – “ДУША – ФИЛОСОФ” (книга 2) (2023г.)- (переиздание- обновлённый вариант)
-Биссо Н. – “РЕКИ ВРЕМЕНИ” ( в издательстве в стадии обработки)
Коллективные сборники и антологии: более 150 книг)

YES

Poem by Mirela Leka Xhava
(In french)

L’AUTOMNE

Je fais un pas, deux, trois, pour entrer dans une autre saison.
Dehors, là dehors, la pluie du premier jour d’automne a commencé
et bien sûr de fin d’été.
Les parapluies de tournesol somnolents s’ouvrent
pour entendre à nouveau la symphonie de la pluie.

Par-ci par-là, avec le vent, les premières feuilles volent vers le ciel
et d’autres tombent
se transforment en messagers de rêves
pour ceux qui se taisent derrière les fenêtres.

Le premier jour de l’automne porte le parfum de la terre
et la terre porte aussi le parfum de la vie.
Des gazouillements d’oiseaux sous l’abri humide
et des pas qui vers des couleurs jaunâtres se précipitent.

JESEN

Napravim korak, dva, tri, da uđem u novo godišnje doba.
Napolju, ovdje vani, počela je kiša prvog dana jeseni
i kasnog ljeta.
Pospani suncokreti su se otvorili
da se još jednom čuje simfonija kiše.

Pljuskaj – prskaj, palo lišće na vjetru leti u nebo
dok ostalo pada
pretvarajući se u glasnike snova
za sve one koji šute iza prozora.

Prvi dan jeseni nosi miris zemlje
a i zemlja nosi miris života.
Ptice cvrkuću pod mokrom strehom
i koracima hrle u žućkaste boje.

Translated to Bosnian by Nermin Delić

Autumn

I take a step, two, three, to enter a new season.
Outside, out here, the rain of the first day of autumn began
and of late summer.
Sleepy sunflower umbrellas opened
to hear the symphony of rain once more.

Splish-splash, with the wind, the first leaves fly to the sky
and others fall
turning into messengers of dreams
for those who remain silent behind windows.

The first day of autumn carries the scent of the earth
and the earth also bears the fragrance of life.
Birds chirping under the wet shelter
and steps that rush to yellowish colors.

Translated to english by Alba Xhava

I am at the end of my new book which I hope will be published in France. My hobby is listening to classical music especially, flowers and paintings. I like traveling where I get experiences and inspiration. As I said I am of Franco-Albanian origin and in my country I graduated as a language-literature teacher and worked as a University Librarian. Here I work in a bookstore.

I see a paradox. Today, in general, poetry books are not bought. Young people listen to a lot of songs and like the text, that is, poetry.
Poetry in itself is peace. Without poetry, without art, life is unbearable. Let’s inject poetry and the name peace and not hate into the little child at the beginning of school. More art.

1. I don’t want winter in my eyes (1999)
2. Flowers of Montesquieu street (2022)
3.at the end.

YES

PRETUČENA UNUTRAŠNJOST

Pretučena unutrašnjost ormarića ispod kuhinjskog sudopera
čini me srećnim. Ovdje su dva iskrena eksera
zakucana u originalne daske koje su ovdje
od izgradnje stambene zgrade. To je kao ponovno posjećivanje
zaboravljenih članova naše najbliže porodice.
U nekom trenutku daske su bile plave; tu je i malo crvene
i svijetlo zelene boje. Kuhinjski sudoper je nov
i radna površina je podignuta deset centimetara. Vjerovatno
je nekoliko puta renoviran kroz godine.
Kuhinja je ostala moderna; tu su nove lampe,
električni šporet, frižider i aparat za kafu.
Ali ovdje ispod sudopera dopušten je skok kroz vrijeme,
tu je lavor sa podmetačem, čistačem
i zaboravljenim komadićem lužine.
Ovdje se pauk slobodno kreće.

Možda je bilo ljubljenja i plesa u ovoj kuhinji.
Vjerovatno je bilo plakanja.
Srećni ljudi u novoj ljubavi pripremali su mirisne obroke
i kasnije kuvali kašu i pravili sendviče za ručak.
Gladna djeca ukrala su keksiće. Smijeh je odjekivao
hodnikom, a preskakao se konopac u dvorištu
dok su se nova vozila parkirala napolju.
Ljudi su se useljavali i iseljavali, stari su umirali
i nosili su ih niz stepenice, novorođene bebe su se nosile uz stepenice.
Sve po redu – i moje ime će jednog dana nestati
sa vrata.

Spuštam se na koljena pred kuhinjskim sudoperom
dok s poštovanjem pozdravljam otpušivač, pauka
i dva iskrena eksera.

© Niels Hav. Translated to Montenegrin by Anđela Turukalo Dabetić
Niels Hav, danski pisac. Živi u Kopenhagenu. Objavi deset knjiga poezije i kratke proze. Njegove pjesme prevedene su na mnoge jezike (između ostalih na engleski, portugalski, španski, italijanski, srpski, makedonski i turski).

Niels Hav has frequently been interviewed by the media, as he has travelled widely in Europe, Asia, Africa, North and South America. He is a full time poet and writer with awards from the Danish Arts Counsil. He is curious and enjoys meeting new people and foreign cultures.
Niels Hav was raised on a farm in western Denmark, he knows how to feed cattle and milk a cow. Today he resides with his wife the concert pianist Christina Bjørkøe in the most colourful and multi-ethnic part of the Danish capital, Copenhagen.

In Denmark, we have a genuine tradition of tolerance – because it is necessary. The country was a great nation, but we lost decisive wars. Today the nation is small and dependent on alliances. With the European Union and with the rest of the world in the UN. A population of Danish speakers lives in Germany, and German speakers live in Denmark. These minorities and their language and culture are supported by the government. The protection of minorities is essential for peace everywhere in the world. Oppression and injustice create conflict.

1. Afmægtighed forbudt. Short stories 1981.
2. Glæden sidder i kroppen. Poetry 1982.
3. Øjeblikket er en åbning. Short stories 1983.
4. Sjælens Geografi. Poetry 1984..
5. Ildfuglen, okay. Poetry 1987.
6. Den iranske sommer. Short stories 1990.
7. God’s blue Morris. Poetry, Canada 1993.
8. Når jeg bliver blind. Poetry 1995.
9. Nenadeina Sreka. Poetry, Skopje, Macedonia1997.
10. Grundstof. Poetry – Gyldendal, 2004.
11. U Odbranu Pesnika. Poetry, Belgrade 2008.
12. We Are Here. Poetry, Toronto 2006.
13. From Betroelse to confession. Poetry, Toronto 2009.
14. De gifte koner i København. Poetry 2009.
15. Als ik blind word. Poetry, Holland 2010.
16. Ḥı̄na aṣı̄ru aʻmá. Poetry, Beirut 2010.
17. De Iraanse zomer. Short stories, Holland 2011.
18. Udate žene u Kopenhagenu, Poetry, Bosnia 2012.
19. Grondstof. Poetry, Holland 2012.
20. Kopenhag Kadinlari, Poetry, Turkey 2013.
21. Zanʹhā dar Kupanhāk, Poetry, Tehran, Iran 2015.
22. Al-Rooh Tarqos Fee Mahdiha, Poetry, Amman, Jordan 2015.
23. Şî’ri bo trisnokekan nîye, Essays and poetry, Sulaymaniyah, Irak 2016.
24. Shpirti vallzon në djep,Shtëpia, Poetry, Albania 2016.
25. A alma dança em seu berço, Editora Penalux, Poetry Brasil 2018.
26. Øjeblikke af lykke. Poetry 2021.
27. Moments of Happiness, Poetry, Vancouver 2022.

NO

VOLIMO SE PONOVO SVJEDOČENJEM PREŽIVJELIH
(poem by Christos R. Tsiailis)
(translation: Nermin Delić)
———————————————————-

Stani pred mene i pogledaj me.
Podijelimo kuću na dva dijela.
Uzmi komad koji volim.
Ja ću uzeti sobe sa tvojim stvarima

Ako uđeš unutra, zabit ću ti nož u ruku dok krv ne kapne.
Kada napadnem, grizni me jako za noge i leđa dok ne zacvilim kao žrtva rata.
Gurni me tako jako da kad izađem da padnem na sve četiri,
dok ti pokazujem svoj bijes iako je moć nadmoćna i za moju veličinu.

Jednog dana ja ću biti David, a ti ćeš biti Golijat
i bez prestanka ću siktati i bacati kamenje.
Jednog dana ću biti Golijat i samo ću u očima
samo da vidim u tvom pogledu vidjeti tvoju mrsku satisfakciju zbog mog poraza
ovo zadovoljstvo zbog dominacije koju imaš, što me uvijek uzbudi

Kada budeš u bolovima, skaradno ćeš cviliti.
Ja kad plačem, tad zalupim vrata u lice,
da osjetim taj divlji prezir

Zagrli me usred noći, ako se probudim, pljunut ću te i otići u neku drugu sobu.
pustit ću te da gladuješ dva dana, u međuvremenu, pričati ti o egzotičnim kuhinjama.

Ne plaćaš struju već pet mjeseci, a ja sam u mraku
– “Bojim se” – uzdahnem
“to je najrealniji osjećaj”, kažeš, “najbliži osjećaj nama”.

Okrenem se leđima i naslonim čelo na zid.
pretvaram se da plačem,
pretvaraš se da me tješiš.

Sakrij mi flaše da ne pijem viski
sve dok uveče znoj ne zamrlja čaršafe i poplavi pod.

Stojim ispred tebe i hladno gledam.
Koliko god te žudio, ne pomjeram se ni za inč
Približavaš se.

u našoj priči nema pripovijedanja o prošlosti i sadašnjosti
Samo patnje je bilo i biće.
I sada je tu.

Na milimetar si daleko od mojih usana.
Osećam tvoj jebeni sok koji nikad nisi ostavio
i počinjem da ti cijepam odjeću.
Tvoje tijelo netaknuto, oholo, izdržljivo.
Grizem nokte.
tvoj zlonamjerni pogled je najuzbudljiviji koji sam ikada sreo
Osjećam ogromno zadovoljstvo koje teče kroz mene.

Čupam ti pramen kose.
Lobanja ti je već polupana.
Cvijeće je mokro, a napola uvelo, evo nestaje.
Čekam crnog krokodila sa crvenim očima.
Gledaš svoju zapaljenu cigaretu u pepeljari

Nakon nekoliko mjeseci ti se smiješim.
Pružaš mi dlan.
Držimo cigaretu vrhovima prstiju,
nasloljenu na tvoj zglob.
Isklesano ugljenisano meso pretvoreno u pepeo.
“Nemoj gutati” kažeš mi dubokim glasom.

Približavaš usne.
Naše grudi i bedra su spojeni.

Ispruženim rukama zatvaramo jedno po jedno vrata svojih omiljenih spavaćih soba.

Idemo tango koracima do jedine neutralne sobe koju niko od nas nije osvojio.

I tu se parimo, na kratko, slobodni jedno od drugog.

ΑΣ ΑΓΑΠΗΘΟΥΜΕ ΞΑΝΑ, ΜΕΣΑ ΑΠΟ ΤΙΣ ΜΑΡΤΥΡΙΕΣ ΤΩΝ ΕΠΙΖΩΝΤΩΝ.
(ποίημα από τον Χρίστο Ρ. Τσιαήλη)
———————————————————-
Στάσου απέναντί μου και κοίταξέ με άγρια.
Να χωρίσουμε το σπίτι στα δυο.
Πάρε το κομμάτι που αγαπώ.
Παίρνω τα δωμάτια με τα συμπράγκαλά σου.

Άμα πατάς πόδι θα σε κόβω λιγάκι με το μαχαίρι στο μπράτσο όσο να στάξει λίγο αίμα.
Όταν εισβάλλω εγώ να με δαγκώνεις δυνατά στα πόδια και στην πλάτη ωσότου τσιρίξω σαν θύμα
πολέμου.
Σπρώχνε με τόσο δυνατά για να βγω που να πέφτω στα τέσσερα,
θα σε κλωτσάω με μανία κι ας είναι η δύναμή σου τεράστια για το μέγεθός μου.

Κάποτε θα είμαι ο Δαυίδ και θα είσαι εσύ ο Γολιάθ
και θα σου ρίχνω με τη σφενδόνα πέτρες ασταμάτητα.
Κάποτε θα είμαι ο Γολιάθ και θα με νικάς
να βλέπω στο βλέμμα σου τη μισητή σου ικανοποίηση για την ήττα μου,
αυτή η ηδονή σου της επικράτησης που τόσο πάντα με φτιάχνει.

Όταν πονάς θα γελάω δυνατά να υποφέρεις.
Όταν κλάψω κλείνε μου την πόρτα στα μούτρα δυνατά,
να νιώσω αυτή την άγρια απαξίωση.

Αγκάλιασε με λίγο μεσάνυχτα κι αν ξυπνήσω φτύσε με και φύγε για άλλο δωμάτιο.
Θα σε αφήνω κάποτε για δυο μέρες να πεινάς κι όταν παρακαλάς θα μιλάω για εξωτικές κουζίνες.

Δεν πληρώνεις το ρεύμα πέντε μήνες τώρα και βυθίζομαι στο σκοτάδι
– “φοβάμαι” – σου λέω
“είναι ό,τι πιο αληθινό” μου λες, “ό,τι πιο κοντινό στον έρωτά μας”.

Γυρνάω την πλάτη κι ακουμπάω το μέτωπο στον τοίχο.
Προσποιούμαι ότι ξεσπάω σε λυγμούς,
προσποιείσαι ότι με παρηγορείς.

Κρύψε τα μπουκάλια μου να μην πίνω ουίσκι
ωσότου τα βράδια ο ιδρώτας της στέρησης βρωμίσει τα σεντόνια και πλημμυρίσει το πάτωμα.

Στέκομαι απέναντί σου και σε κοιτάω ψυχρά.
Όσο κι αν σε ποθώ δεν κουνάω ρούπι.
Πλησιάζεις.

Δεν υπάρχει ιστορικός ενεστώτας στη δική μας ιστορία.
Το βάσανο ήταν και θα είναι.
Είναι και τώρα.

Είσαι χιλιοστά μακριά από τα χείλη μου.
Μυρίζω το γαμημένο σου αναψυκτικό που δεν αφήνεις κάτω ποτέ
κι αρχίζω να σκίζω τα ρούχα σου.
Το σώμα σου ακούνητο, αγέρωχο, ανθεκτικό.
Σε γδέρνω με τα νύχια μου.
Το μοχθηρό σου βλέμμα είναι ό,τι πιο εκστασιογόνο έχω ποτέ συναντήσει.
Αισθάνομαι απέραντη ηδονή να με διαπερνάει.

Μου τραβάς μια τούφα απ’ τα μαλλιά.
Σου σπάω ένα βάζο στο κεφάλι.
Χάμω ένας βάλτος νερά και μισομαραμένα λουλούδια.
Περιμένω τον μαύρο κροκόδειλο με τα κόκκινα μάτια.
Κοιτάς το αναμμένο τσιγάρο σου στο στακτοδοχείο.
Σου χαμογελάω μετά από μήνες.
Απλώνεις την παλάμη σου.
Πιάνω με τα ακροδάχτυλα το τσιγάρο,
το σβήνω στον καρπό σου.
Γλύφω την καμένη σάρκα με τη στάχτη.
“Μην καταπίνεις” λες με τη βαθιά φωνή σου.

Πλησιάζεις τα χείλη σου.
Ενώνονται τα στήθια και οι γάμπες μας.

Με τα χέρια σου τεντωμένα κλείνεις τις πόρτες των αγαπημένων σου δωματίων μια-μια.

Με βήματα ταγκό σε παρασύρω στο μόνο ουδέτερο δωμάτιο που δεν κατέλαβε κανείς μας.

Και γαμιόμαστε εκεί, για λίγο ελεύθεροι ο ένας απ’ τον άλλο.

I am an English teacher and a theatrologist. I am into sports, have participated in marathon and triathlon races for decades. What is unusual about me is my inability to get angry even in the most harsh situations, and my intuition (knowing what people think before they tell me) which sometimes shocks people.

The island of Cyprus suffered the invasion of the nation of Turkey in 1974 when there was trouble between the Greek and the Turkish community in Cyprus. Turkey invaded with the aim to help stop conflicts. However, half of Cyprus was occupied and has remained like this ever since, without the reestablishment of the Cyprus Democracy on the whole of the island. Peace talks have not led to a solution. Greek Cypriots and Turkish Cypriots want to get back to a united island, but Turkey keeps colonising the island with mainland Turks. Turkey is trying to create an independent state on the island, proving that their purpose (when they invaded) was not to solve the differences between the two communities on the island.

Throwing Dice on a Chessboard (short story collection) (2010)
The Green Divorce (poetry collection (2012)
Klotho Surfaces (novel) (2016)
Bread (short story collection) (2017)
Symptoms (poetry collection) (2021)
Oua (poetry collection) (2021)
Ougka (poetry collection) (2022)

YES

Znak opravdanja

Ostani sa mnom. Sjedni. Zakuvaću.
Nadam se, voliš, kao i ja, sa cimetom?
Povjerivši svjetlo noćnom fenjeru,
ne žuri oprostiti se tišinom…

Odlazi avgust -svilena sezona –
sati će nam složiti susret kazaljkama.
Ne odlazi: lije kiša, kući je kišobran.
Na sve ću odgovoriti. Ne… Pitaj me o nama…

Prilijepiću se kao golubica uz tvoje rame,
udahnuti sve, tako mi je potrebno…
Možda nakon toga padnem i ne podignem se,
ali bez tebe mi je, vjeruj, nesnosno!

Dotaći ću, zadržavajući dah, tvoje kose,
lice, ruke, slušaću ti disanje…
Danas smo zajedno. Dalje avgust sam
prepušta patnji bolno otkrivanje.

Ostani sa mnom… Ne stidi se, pij:
kafa će te zagrijati. Muzika će utješiti.
Može se smisliti hiljade šala
i tema za razgovore. Pogled ce se slivati,

Mjesečev, kroz prozor, podsjećajući da je vrijeme
za izgovoriti riječi i potonuti… Ćutanje…
Ostani. Bićemo zajedno do jutra.
I poljubac će postati opravdanje…

Translated to Montenegrin by Anđela Turukalo Dabetić
……………………………………………

Знак оправдания

Побудь со мной. Присядь. Я заварю.
Надеюсь, любишь, как и я, с корицей?
Доверив свет ночному фонарю,
Ты не спеши безмолвием проститься…

Уходит август-бархатный сезон —
Часы устроят нам, как стрелкам, встречу.
Не уходи: льёт ливень, дома зонт.
Спроси о нас. Нет… Обо всём отвечу.

Прижмусь голубкой к твоему плечу,
Вдохну всего, мне так необходимо…
Пусть после упаду и не взлечу,
Но без тебя, поверь, невыносимо!

Дотронусь, замирая, к волосам,
Лицу, рукам, прислушаюсь к дыханью…
Сегодня вместе. Дальше август сам
Предастся откровению, страданью.

Побудь со мной… Ты не стесняйся, пей:
Согреет кофе. Музыка — утешит.
Придумать можно тысячу затей,
И тем для разговоров. Взглядом режет

Луна в окно, напомнив, что пора
Сказать слова, и утонуть. Молчанье…
Останься. Будем вместе до утра.
И поцелуем станет оправданье…

In addition to poetry, I do oriental dancing and horse riding. I run a youth theater and teach dance. I also do handicrafts.

Start with yourself, with your thoughts, education and upbringing. Not everything in the world is material. Poetry touches the heartstrings and helps to gain a love for beauty.

YES