Wednesday, January 1, 2020

NILAVRONILL SHOOVRO



WELCOME
TO
OUR POETRY ARCHIVE

We all know poetry is an art which could be applauded as the finest form of all arts. If we would like to trace the beginning of this art form, we have to dig deep into the ancient history of human civilization. We would eventually find out that, poetry was there even before the age of literacy. In ancient history of mankind, poetry was there as means of recording oral history, storytelling. Preliterate societies, lacking the means to write down important cultural information, use similar methods to preserve it. If we would like to trace the origins of myths, we may end up to these recording of oral histories in form of poetry. So, in past poetry had a linkage with ancient histories also. The greater part of world’s sacred scriptures is also made up of poetry. So, we can say it is poetry through which human civilization had evolved around to express its’ own sentiment feelings and stories. The use of verse to transmit cultural information continues today.

In the ancient era, poetry was basically a performing art. There was no method of writing down it. So, the performers or the composers had to memorise the entire stories and enact them in front of an audience. As such, there was a possibility of alteration of actual words and rhyme from one performer to another. Or from one performance to other. We can also assert that poetry has its origins in song. As we know, people of preliterate era had no means to write down their feelings and stories. They could only utter their joy and agony in oral form of rhyme with rhythmic intensity towards musical inclination. So, poetry actually originates from song. Of course, in the traditional European epics, such as Homeric and Hesiodic epics, the earliest surviving poems of Europe identify themselves as poems to be recited or chanted to a musical accompaniment rather than as pure song. With the invention of writing methods, this oral era of performing poetry had changed dramatically. One could also read a written poem. Moreover, the chance of surviving of the entire content of the written poem had also increased. Again, with the invention of printing technology poetry has come out of the clutch of mere oral and performing era of pre literacy age. 

With the development of literacy poetry has traversed many centuries to reach its present form. European poetry is no exception. It has also evolved around European socio-political and cultural evolutions. It has witnessed the European Renaissance. Gone through it and had emerged as a more subtle art form. European Renaissance had awakened the intellect of educated people to find out truths in all spheres of life. It had enabled people and artists alike to comprehend the art of living. This awakening of a new enthusiasm had helped Europe to shape its’ politics, religion, society, culture and literature as a whole. All these had shaped the post Renaissance European poetry. And with the scientific and technological evolution of the following eras European poetry had gone through a dramatic changeover and stepped into the threshold of modern period. During the following eras European poetry had gone through various experiments. It had shaped lot of ideas and ideologies. Asked new questions, tried to fathom deep into the previously unanswered questions. But it had never lost belief in man. It had always upheld the idea of love and prosperity. Except few exceptions these were the characteristics European poetry which had also affected the colonial literatures around the world. 

Yet after the two world wars European poetry has gone through a great turmoil. The faith on the benevolence of mankind has received a great setback. Which was the epitome of the post Renaissance periods. People has lost beliefs in moral values of life. Nobody is above suspicion. None to believe. Life has become a trifle affaire. Everything seems to be too insignificant to uphold or justify as good. The highway of post war poetry of Europe has largely been paved by these negative effects. Of course, European poetry contains within its multiplicities. There are so many countries with different cultural inheritance and traditions. Also, there are so many conflicts among various nationalities, cultural differences, Yet Europe is united in its soul with a common heritage of Ancient culture. Which we can describe as European culture in a broad sense. This soul has gone through great upheavals yet remain European within. I think this is the greatest strength of Europe. Yes, European poetry bears this essence in its every layer. European poetry of this present millennium is no exception at all. We have to watch its present as well as future progressions carefully only to see how it manages to restore the ultimate belief on the benevolence of mankind.

Our Poetry Archive since its inception has largely been supported by the European poets. Their contributions are really phenomenal to make Our Poetry Archive an international web journal dedicated to world poetry, So, we at OPA has decided to dedicate one special issue on European poets. The uniqueness of this edition is, all the poems have been published in the original European languages without any translation in English. This is really a new venture for us. We hope our European readers will enjoy this number. Although the readers of the English poetry will certainly miss this New Year Number of OPA, but we are confident enough that they will remain with us along our homage to the European poets in their native language. The all English edition will return back with the upcoming February number of OPA. So, we need all the supports and benevolence of our readers to continue with our publishing of world poetry over the internet.

With our good wishes for a great year ahead for our readers and writers alike our thanks go to everybody who oblige us with his or her participation in this journey.

From The Editorial Desk
OPA
A
WORLDWIDE WRITERS’ WEB
PRESENTATION!

PUBLISHED BY

OPA

OUR
POETRY ARCHIVE
ONLINE MONTHLY POETRY JOURNAL
email us to:
**************************************





ALMA BULJUBAŠIĆ IN DANISH


ALMA BULJUBAŠIĆ

Tamo U Daljini

Tamo gdje ruža
najljepša cvate,
gdje nebo plavo
grli planinu,
a sunce ljubi
svaki krov
tamo sam ja
i moj dom.

Tamo gdje
ljubav se budi,
gdje prkosom sudi
u svojoj plavoj boji
tamo su prijatelji moji.

Tamo gdje jedna rijeka teće
kroz svoju dolinu,
tamo je lijepo svako veče.

Tamo gdje jutro s rosom se sprema
gdje uči se i voli,
tamo mene nema.

Tamo na najljepšoj kapiji
na ulazu u moj grad,
tamo je duša mi sad.

Tamo negdje u daljini
u mojoj vječnoj blizini,
tamo je sreća i uzdasi
prijatelju bilo gdje da si...









Oda Ljubavi

Jednom ako ljubav ode od svih
opet ću o njoj pisati najljepši stih.
Od mene otići neće
sa njom je život pun mi sreće.
Sve dok cvijeta njeno cvijeće
znam preselit neće.
Rast će u najljepšoj bašti
samnom u mojoj mašti,
šerbetom njenim zalivena,od zla sakrivena.
A znam!
Znam korijenje joj sijem s prijateljima cijelog svijeta,
znam vječno će da cvijeta.
Mudrost joj je odjeća
a razum obuća,
Zajedništvo vječna kuća..









Naš Svijet

Baš je lijep ovaj svijet
ondje bašta u njoj cvijet,
ondje potok,ondje rijeka
u njemu nas sreća čeka.
Ondje šuma i planina
lijep je pogled sa visina.
Ondje jedan jezik zbore
tamo drugi progovore,
u ljubavi svi isto govore.
Ondje kamen,ondje trava
nedajmo ga listi zaborava.
Gore nebo i zvjezdice
a prati ih mjesec žut,
svima šalju isti put.
Nije važno ko si,šta si
važno ti je čovjek da si.
Zagrli ga ti rukama
i pogledaj sa očima,
za sve u njem’mjesta ima.


ALMA BULJUBAŠIĆ

AUGUSTO BARBOSA COURA NETO



AUGUSTO BARBOSA COURA NETO

Intruso

Adentrei teu corpo sem licença

Afoito cheio de amor, sem paciência.

Em busca do meu eu, do meu viver,

Pois és a flor que pretendo um dia ter.



Sem hesitar aceitaste com benevolência

Ser vinho que dessedenta meu beber

Ser meu perdão ser minha indulgência

Pois meu coração só busca o teu querer.



Noite após noite aumenta minha insônia

Em pensar não conseguir o meu intento

De ter-te em meu jardim bela begônia.



Já vi que viver sem ti, eu não aguento,

Pareço abelha longe da colônia.

Sou como a folha ao léu que abraça o vento








Grão De Areia

Pequeno grão de areia,
que esvoaça ao vento na praia.
Buscas amor e calor?
Não sei!
Também me sinto
um grão ao léu,
nas asas de uma triste gaivota.








Relógio

Incansável em seu trabalho

Sem renumeração ou carinho

Meu amigo predileto

Nunca me deixa sozinho



Sua fala é um tique-taque

Avisando-me do trabalho

E de outras necessidades

Que me dão oportunidades



Sem ele não sei que seria

Dos meus momentos omissos

Pois não me deixa atrasar

Aos meus fiéis compromissos



De manhã me acordando

Como andorinhas em bando

Aos meus ouvidos se atreve

Seu barulhar doce e alegre



Este a quem idolatro e bendigo

Como verdadeiro eucológio

Confesso que é meu amigo

Meu caro e estimado: Relógio



AUGUSTO BARBOSA COURA NETO



AUGUSTO BARBOSA COURA NETO - Engenheiro Florestal pela UFSM/RS. Natural de Ponte Nova/MG. Reside em Florianópolis/SC. Casado com Marisa Matilde Martellet Coura. Presidente da Academia Alcantarense de Letras (São Pedro de Alcântara/SC), Membro fundador e efetivo da Academia Desterrense de Literatura (Florianópolis/SC). Membro efetivo da Academia São José de Letras (São José/SC). Membro Correspondente da Academia Formiguense de Letras (Formiga/MG); Membro Correspondente da Academia Taubateana de Letras (Taubaté/SP), Membro Correspondente da Academia de Letras de Balneário Camboríú/SC e Membro Correspondente da Academia de Letras de Ponte Nova/MG. È membro efetivo do Instituto Histórico e Geográfico de Santa Catarina (IHGSC). Verbete no  Dicionário Biobibliográfico de Escritores Mineiros, Belo Horizonte, MG (2010).



CHRYSSAVELISSARIOU - IN GREEK


CHRYSSAVELISSARIOU

'Εχω Ωδίνες

Νομίζω πως πεθαίνω
Με ζώνουν φίδια
Κι εικόνες άγριες μέλισσες ολούθε με τσιμπούν
Κάποιος τοκετός ετοιμάζεται
Κάποιο μπουμπούκι θα εκραγεί
Πονώ βαθιά
Κι η νοερή μήτρα του μυαλού μου ετοιμάζεται
Παίρνει σχήμα
Αλλάζει δομή οδυνηρά
Περιοδικά συσπάται όλο πιο συχνά
Κάποιος τοκετός ετοιμάζεται
Θα με πεθάνει η ζωή με τόση δημιουργία
Εκεί που πάω να ησυχάσω
Πάλι υποκύπτω στα θέλγη της
Μ' ακόμη μια γονιμοποίηση
'Αγρια χαρά του πάθους γκρεμνός
Κι άλλη μια γέννηση
Αενάως
Ως την τελική πτώση
(c)ChryssaVelissariou2019









Το Τσεκούρι

Οι καρδιές είναι ως δέντρα
Ψηλώνουν
'Οσο μπορούν ν' απομυζούν αγάπη απ' τη γη
Αναπνέουν αλλ' επίσης αποπνέουν οξυγόνο για άλλους
Παίζουν στον άνεμο
Απολαμβάνουν τη θαλπωρή του ήλιου
Δύνανται να επιζήσουν στις κακουχίες του χειμώνα
Πιο θαλερά και δυνατά την άνοιξη

Πέφτουν και σβήνουν
Απ' ένα τσεκούρι
Που τα χωρίζει απ' την πηγή ζωής τους
Απ' το πάθος τους να τρέφονται με την αγάπη της γης

Η καρδιά μου είν' ένα τσεκουρωμένο δέντρο
©ChryssaVelissariou2019









Οι Σκιές

Χαμογελώ
Όσο μπορώ περισσότερο
Καθώς ξυπνώ τον νιώθω
να με τυλίγει σαν να 'μαστε ένα
Ο ένας σκιά του άλλου

Τόσο μεγάλη αγάπη αισθάνομαι
Σχεδόν ευγνωμονώ που
την έκανε μεγαλύτερη η απουσία

Αφού ξυπνώ
θλίβομαι αλλά
δεν είμαι πάντα πια δυστυχισμένη

Κοιτώ αυτά που έχω κι είναι πολλά
Σκέφτομαι ότι κάπως έτσι
θα 'ναι και για εκείνον

Κάτι λοιπόν του πρόσφερα
Μια γλυκιά σκιά το χάραμα ίσως.
©ChryssaVelissariou2014


CHRYSSAVELISSARIOU

DENISA KONDIC - IN SERBIAN



DENISA KONDIC


Не Дам Себе


Не дам себе ван себе.

Отмицу спречавам.

На згаришту прошлости

сакупљам пепео,

мешам га са сузама

и правим цеђ -

да сперем сву бол

и избелим простор за нови почетак.



Од пређе сам јаке саткана.

Поникла на тлу

балканских прадедова.

Мојим жилама струје сеобе

и они што никада за милост не моле.

У мени се буди свест успавана.

Ниси сама, ниси сама!



Снагу црпим у вама -

замишљеним дијалозима,

сневаним и збиљским призорима,

у свету предака,

склоњеном од заборава,

јер ваша су сећања у мојој крви записана.









Цеђ


Моје срце није палимпсест,

па да због мањка осећања

по њему поново пишеш.

Нисам мета.



Оно што је написано,

као стари пергамент тргам.

Срце ново имам.

Нисам мета.



Саговорник мој нестао је.

Сад нова слова учим,

перо у тинту умачем.

Нисам мета.



Цеђу бришем твој лик

да избелим разочарања

и неиспуњена обећања.

Мета више нисам.








Босонога II


И даље путујем просторима

где нису потребни папири,

где се путање шире

у свим правцима.



Записом генетике присутна сам

и тамо где никад нисам била,

где су ми преци уцртали мапу душе

и где рељефи настају на исходишту времена.



Избачена с изворишта идеала,

оснажујем честице себе

да уморна стопала

спојим с траговима у свемиру.



Спремна да изнедрим бољу себе,

осмехом нежно ромињам

по љубоказима окренутим

ка оном што ће доћи.



Има пуно ствари које почињу на “Д”,

безброј разнобојних могућности,

једна ће бити моја,

јер ја јесам Дете Дунава.



И даље сам старомодна,

пишем разгледнице пером

и босих ногу убацујем у сандучиће срца

весело очекујући осмех.



А када бол притисне и стегне,

од мирисног биља у срцу

цедим етарско уље,

да себи излијем на главу, као благослов.



Сада прекидам ову чајанку са собом

и на врховима прстију

улазим у нову димензију.


Босонога је жива.

DENISA KONDIC




GALINA ITALYANSKAYA - IN RUSSIAN



GALINA
ITALYANSKAYA

Волшебное Стекло

Под солнцем и дождём
Земля родит сторицей.
«Что сеем, то пожнём», –
В народе говорится.

Коль сорное зерно
Разбрасываешь рьяно,
Так и взойдёт оно
Полынью да бурьяном.

Сад разобьёшь любя –
Он расцветёт красиво,
Чтоб радовать тебя,
И это справедливо.

Ты знаешь, поделом
За всё нам воздаётся.
Зло обернётся злом,
Добро добром вернётся.

Обидишь ли кого,
Обманешь, насмеёшься –
В свой срок и ты с того
Проблем не оберёшься.

Поддержишь ли в беде
Сочувствием, заботой –
Однажды и тебе
Протянет руку кто-то.

Но есть ещё закон
Двойного отраженья:
Судить нам не резон
Чужие заблужденья.

Когда на зло решил
Таким же злом ответить,
Ты зло не истребил,
А преумножил этим.

Пока мы суд и месть
Чиним в ответ друг другу,
Беда была и есть,
И бегает по кругу.

Как с горки снежный ком,
Она на нас несётся,
Покуда в круге том
Звено не оборвётся.

И сладить можно с ним
Одним лишь только чудом:
Не делать зла самим,
Творить добро повсюду.

Волшебное стекло –
Испытанное средство!
Добро погасит зло,
Коль доброта от сердца.

Пусть кажется трудней
Простить вину соседу,
Добро стократ сильней,
Поскольку милосердно.







Надежда

Угасает закат, утекает вода
С каждым днём незаметней.
Кто-то как-то сказал, что надежда всегда
Умирает последней.
Мол, душа без неё не протянет и дня –
Перекинется к Богу.
Соберёт чемодан и оставит меня,
Не присев на дорогу.

И с собой увезёт краски лета и сны
О несбывшемся чуде.
И не будет рассвета, не будет весны,
И желаний не будет.
Только серая ночь в фоторамке окна
Да арктический ветер.
Только память о том, что была не одна
Я когда-то на свете.

Сколько можно не спать под холодной луной,
Ждать ответа на письма?
Сколько можно мечтать, что за новой волной
Вдруг покажется пристань?
Что фортуны крыло мне надежду вернёт
В белоснежном конверте.
И настанет тепло, и сирень расцветёт,
Словно жизнь после смерти.






Что Суждено

Что суждено, того ждёшь годами.
Так пусть всё сбудется, пока молод.
От ожидаемого в глазах пламя.
От невозможного – ледяной холод.

Нет перед временем у меня дрожи.
Не так страшно оно, как все верят.
И ты бояться его не смей тоже,
Ведь это страх стережёт двери.

Он по рукам и по ногам свяжет,
Стальными пальцами сожмёт глотку.
Нам нет проходу от таких стражей.
Оставь их берег и садись в лодку.

Пусть будет путь твой тебе в радость.
В лицо штормам ты взгляни гордо.
От неизбежного в ногах слабость.
Держись и стой на своём твёрдо.

Лишь тот не сгинет в пути, кто честен,
Ведь к правде путь не лежит криво.
Мы будем небо молить о нас вместе,
И пусть всё сбудется, пока живы. 

GALINA ITALYANSKAYA

GALINA ITALYANSKAYA, 42 y.o., born in the USSR in a small northern town, now living in Russia with her children and working as an English teacher. Since the early childhood she’s been in love with nature: dense forests, rivers and lakes, mountains and seas. Actually, its beauty surrounds her all her life. She has travelled a lot, and it is always a source of inspiration. Her other interests are photography and art. She loves to draw pictures, and she hardly can imagine going on a trip or just for a walk without a camera. Galina has written poetry since her school years. About 10 years ago she composed her first poem in English, inspired by her friend from abroad. And thanks to poetry she’s found many good friends all over the world. In 2015 she joined “Poets Unite. Worldwide” group, and some of her poems were published in their anthologies.