With its death
the day gilds
the leaves.
I do not know the names of
...
In a while,
in a second
and rain is pouring down.
One expectation like an Alpine horn
...
Time is an idea of the over-ripe mind
The sky bent dries the earth
Did you achieve anything more than
...
Will you break off with me,
my beloved,
morsel for morsel laddu*?
My dream doesn’t come to me,
...
I do not expect you.
Sunken hours.
And the streets are rocking like slow guards.
I do not expect you.
...
“The voice of One crying in the desert speaks:
Marko,1.3:
Isaiah,40: 3;
And here The One is coming…
...
I remain a guard of sorrow,
of angels who are thrilling there
and of the water of the fat soil.
Insane guard
...
A splendid vase –
the setting sun rotates
in redness of the skies.
Oh! Of happiness I dream!
...
wants nothing.
It just happens
like a ray of the tree-tops
or of a temporal bone a palm.
...
That
is another night.
Of the fingers,
of the silent stars that
...
The man who walks on
Calzada De Los Muertos, speaks
only in Spanish.
"… in the remains of yesterday
...
Leave these ships with the big
white sails that hardly are wobbling.
Leave this cry of the gulls full of
alarming
...
The light toy-railway is traveling,
with the kids who aren’t anymore.
To Paris, to Brussels is traveling,
to the Black Africa too.
...
Bias, one of the Seven, take up neither (when the Persians arrived) an arm
such glorious like the Seven for Thebes,
nor a book full of wisdom of now.
No.
...
Hello friends! This is my first bilingual book.HAMMER @ ANVIL BOOKS released my book of poems as e-book on AMAZON Kindle:
Special thanks to Vessislava Savova (translator) , Mercedes Webb-Pullman (Editor) , Adam Henry Carriere (Editor) , and my daughter Liliya Pangelova (illustrator)
...
e-book on AMAZON Kindle: http: //www.amazon.com/A-Feather-of-Fujiyama-ebook/dp/B 00E5XY5PO/ref=sr_1_1? s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1374938945&sr=1-1 http: //bogpan.wordpress.com/ “The Second Genesis” – Anthology of Contemporary World Poetry – India’2014, WORLD POETRY YEARBOOK` 2014 Bozhidar Pangelov, was born in Sofia, Bulgaria, where he works and lives now. He is an author of four poetry books, written and published in Bulgarian. Some of his poems have been translated and published in Italian, German and American poetry sites.
*** (With Its Death)
With its death
the day gilds
the leaves.
I do not know the names of
the tree
and it doesn’t matter for
beauty.