Friday, October 1, 2021

NILAVRONILL SHOOVRO

 


LIVE AND LET LIVE

 

Almost 2500 years before, Sophocles cited the great achievements of mankind in his play Antigone. And he summarizes his amazement thus: “There are many wonderful things, and nothing is more wonderful than man’. Today we are amazed again like Sophocles about the wonderful things we can do. But sometimes we pause in horror when we witness Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the Vietnam war, the Afghanistan Iraq war and so many wars where the brutal forces destroy vibrant cities. Not only the killings of innocent people. But also destroying human hopes and aspirations for a better future are also an act of crime. Since the time of Sophocles during the last two and half millennia, we have witnessed both the achievements and tragedies of civilization. We have seen both the good and the worst sides of humans. We have realized both the divine and demonic nature of the human character. It is not a general feature that good will always prevail over evil, but it should be the foremost characteristic of civilization to fight against all evils. And out of this constant struggle to overcome the evils of human nature we should always keep asking a single question: “What is good for mankind”.


Of course, there can be no single answer to this primordial question. Yet we should acknowledge the fact that we cannot inflict any harm to others. Even if we can stick to this single point agenda or principle we can answer that primordial question, what is good for mankind. So, if we can proceed further with our query, we should realize the truth that ‘to live and let live’ is good for mankind. All our works and efforts should be in the direction towards this all-important goal of civilization. To live and let live.


If we sincerely want to achieve this goal. We should reconsider measures and limits. Yes, it is also very true that without limit or limitation, there can be no measure. One can also argue about the contradiction of speaking of progress and limits at the same time. The great German philosopher Ernst Bloch maintained that thinking means venturing beyond. That is thinking, inventing, discovering, researching everything means venturing beyond. That is crossing all limits, dissolving all measures. We even know that every time we cross a limit, we find new limits ahead of us. So, there is no end to crossing limits. But we must have to acknowledge that if we do not want to harm others if we sincerely wish to exercise that principle to live and let live, we must also exercise measures and limits. Especially whenever we try to implement new inventions. Unfortunately, mankind had failed to ensure this all-important measure of putting a limit to implementing new inventions into action. Not all inventions are helpful for the entire civilization, such as the invention of atomic arsenals, etc. So, measures of limitations regarding implementations of breakthrough inventions are most important to ensure the peace and security of mankind. Yes, we need to formulate primary ethical principles for our social life as well as for our political agendas. Cooperation among various factors and interests is necessary to build up a coherent mechanism to ensure human prosperity and to ensure security for each individual. Without this, we can never ensure peace and normalcy in our everyday life. Again, unfortunately, we remain way behind this primary and essential goal of human civilization.


One can now ask, how can we achieve this? I think there are numerous ways to reach this goal. Yet, one of the effective paths is the literary path. Yes, literature can be a great tool to pave the human mind in such a divine manner that mankind can realize the need of the time. As Sophocles claimed, nothing is more wonderful than man. We can also maintain that nothing can extend such wonderful help as literature. Literature and especially poetry can bring serenity to our minds and soul. It can tune us in such a divine manner that we can realize that all-important principle of "live and let live". And without implementing that single principle, we can never be that wonderful, as claimed by Sophocles 2500 years ago.


Literature, especially, poetry has immense strengths inherent within to combat all the evils, reside inside us. It can soothe our ego. It can reshape our nature. It can repair all the abnormalities in our characteristics. It can make us more human towards our relations with others. It can help us to bring the submerged divine strengths of others into action. It can help us to realize that civilization has gone in the wrong direction towards self-destruction. Yes, not only as a simple poet playing with words and emotions. But also, as an individual with an open heart and clear mind, I believe in the immense power of poetry. It can work miracles even among the evil intellects of people holding power to rule and the people in business, even among the evilest of minds destroying all the human fibers of compassion and pity. Yes, we should work in this direction more consciously than ever if we wish to stick to the words of Sophocles that nothing is more wonderful than man. Sophocles is not wrong either. He has realized the immense possibilities of the human power of divine character to fight against all evils. Unfortunately, we didn't follow the right direction so far. We need to amend our miscalculations. We need to reeducate ourselves. We need to reshape our minds and restructure our egos, need to realize the importance of the principle, live and let live. Poetry can help us to achieve all these essential goals of divine life. So, I would like to appeal to all the poets of the present time playing with words and emotions around literature and poetry throughout the world to consolidate their thoughts around these essentialities of life and work, beliefs and faith, hopes and dreams.


With this issue of OPA, October '2021, we have published 79 volumes of poetry since April 2015. This month we are presenting poet Alina Anna Kuberska of Poland as “Poet of The Month”. We are also publishing an interview of the poet and five of her best poems in this present issue. We hope our readers will enjoy both of her poems and the interview.


NilavoNill Shoovro

From The Editorial Desk

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ALINA ANNA KUBERSKA WITH NILAVRONILL

 

NILAVRONILL TALKING WITH

POET OF THE MONTH

ALINA ANNA KUBERSKA

OCTOBER 2021


NILAVRONILL: Why do literature and poetry in particular interest you so much? Please give us some idea about your own perception of literature or poetry in general.


ALINA ANNA KUBERSKA: Poetry has shaped my view of the world. When I read, I forget the pain and that the world is broken. Sometimes it is my prayer, a conversation with God. In fact, when we create, we vent our thoughts and emotions.

 

NILAVRONILL: How do you relate your own self existence with your literary life in one hand, and the time around you, in the other.


ALINA ANNA KUBERSKA: I have no difficulty connecting my life with the literary one. When I create, I close myself to what is currently happening around me. I am united with my inspiration into one existence. When I finish creating, normal life begins. I am a mother, wife, friend.

 

NILAVRONILL: Do you believe creative souls flourish more in turmoil than in peace?


ALINA ANNA KUBERSKA: I can only say how it looks from my perspective. When I suffer, I can write, I actually put this pain on paper and it calms me down. It is not for me to judge others

 

NILAVRONILL: Do you think in this age of information and technology the dimensions of literature have been largely extended beyond our preconceived ideas about literature in general?


ALINA ANNA KUBERSKA: I have a romantic soul, I see the world differently a regular modern man. Poetry is born out of a particular sensitivity and needs to express itself. It all depends also on the time in which the author creates.

 

NILAVRONILL: Now, in this changing scenario we would like to know from your own life experiences as a poet, writer and a creative soul: How do you respond to this present time?


ALINA ANNA KUBERSKA: Although I have been writing for several years, I cannot say whether the present time is more difficult to express emotions. When I was young, lines formed poems themselves and I did not wonder if they were good. Over the years, I started to think more about why and for whom I write.

 

NILAVRONILL: Do you believe that all writers are by and large the product of their nationality? And is this an incentive for or an obstacle against becoming a truly international writer?


ALINA ANNA KUBERSKA: A poet is not a product of nationality. A poet creates with his soul what he writes flows from within him. Anyone who writes well can become an international writer if they wish. You just have to overcome the barriers that sometimes prevent us from fulfilling ourselves.

 

NILAVRONILL: Now, if we try to understand the tradition and modernism, do you think literature can play a pivotal role in it? If so, how? Again, how can an individual writer relate himself or herself to the tradition and to modernism?


ALINA ANNA KUBERSKA: From my point of view, I can say that tradition and the present day do not play a decisive role in literature. Each of us has different conditions for getting to know the world, each one carries a different package of impressions and experiences, both good and bad. It is worth maintaining the tradition, but also you should not close yourself in it.

 

NILAVRONILL: Do you think literary criticism has much to do with the development of a poet and the true understanding of his or her poetry?


ALINA ANNA KUBERSKA: Criticism often hurts poets, especially those who are not sure if what they write is good enough. I have never had any problems with this, because I appreciate constructive comments very much and I am grateful that someone took the time to evaluate what I create. Thanks to people who focused on my texts, I changed the style of writing, but I can also judge other texts better.

 

NILAVRONILL: Do you think society as a whole is the key factor in shaping you up as a poet, or your poetry altogether?


ALINA ANNA KUBERSKA: It wasn't the society that shaped me, but reading books. That felt like relics to me. Reaching for books in the library, ranging from Kochanowski to Mickiewicz, Norwid, Poświatowska or Stachura, in each of them I found something for myself, sometimes I also identified with some characters

 

NILAVRONILL: Do you think people in general actually bother about literature? Do you think this consumerist world is turning the average man away from serious literature?


ALINA ANNA KUBERSKA: Some people care, others don’t. We are different, we have different needs to fulfill ourselves in this world. I can talk about myself. Without literature, my life would be poor. For me, it is a magical world, full of secrets that only a few can discover. I need poetry to breathe freely and live.

 

NILAVRONILL: We would like to know the factors and the peoples who have influenced you immensely in the growing phase of your literary life.


ALINA ANNA KUBERSKA: First it was my Polish teacher who opened my eyes to the beauty contained in literature. That was in primary school. She sent me books and I read. She helped me understand the world I lived in

 

NILAVRONILL: How would you evaluate your contemporaries and what are your aspirations for or expectation from the younger generation?


ALINA ANNA KUBERSKA: My contemporaries are mature people, shaped by life. It’s not for me to judge them. Young people often escape into virtual world. They are therefore spiritually poor. I am happy when I meet young people with a book in their hands, or who write poems which I can read. Recently, I met a fifteen-year-old girl at a poetry festival, she won first place for a poem. May there be as many of them as possible.

 

NILAVRONILL: Humanity has suffered immensely in the past, and is still suffering around the world. We all know it well. But are you hopeful about our future?


ALINA ANNA KUBERSKA: Humanity has been suffering for as long as the world exists. This cannot be avoided. Moments of happiness are interspersed with pain. I know that it is difficult to accept that fate is not kind to some. Therefore, there is always hope that it can turn around because hope dies last.

 

NILAVRONILL: What role can literature in general play to bring a better day for every human being?


ALINA ANNA KUBERSKA: The beauty of literature is that everyone can perceive or interpret it differently. For me, it is the key to another world full of metaphors. Poetry shows a world different than it really is. Better. I perceive it with all my senses. May it be like that for every human being


ALINA ANNA KUBERSKA was born in 1949 in Aleksandrów Łódzki, but she has lived all her adult life in Łódź. She is the mother of two daughters and a son. She has four granddaughters. She made her debut with the book "Angel in the vestibules" published in London. She also had her first soirée there. She is the author of six volumes. She also published two novels and two collections of short stories. Her poems are included in the literary bimonthly" Poetry Today ", Almanacs," White Chronicles "and several dozen Anthologies published in Poland and abroad. She has presented her poetry not only in Poland, but also abroad, including London, Birmingham and Lithuania. She is the vice-president of the Association of Polish Authors, Branch II in Warsaw, a member of the "Sochaczew Literary Evenings - ATUT" Association For several years she ran an international poetry portal. She treats her adventure with poetry as an escape into a better world. Writing gives her not only joy, but also great satisfaction that there is someone who reads poems and finds some of their experiences in them. She loves traveling and photography. She combines these passions, writing travel reports documented with photos. Her motto: "Art does not demand a sacrifice of life - you must love what you do, but you must not be enslaved."

ALINA ANNA KUBERSKA

 


ALINA ANNA KUBERSKA

 

Life Is An Instant

 

she was torn between love

and the desire to run away from it

 

her heart longed for a touch

she did not want to lick the fruit though

but to bite into the pulp

 

a feeling as elusive as a rainbow

she sifted every day

separating the one that had eroded

 

a theater of dreams one of a kind

and longing for something

she could not catch

they kept her sane

 

was she was happy

living in the dark of her own choice

 

Lavender Dreams

 

I was dreaming of lavender hills

- I run barefoot, reveling in the scent

I love dreams written with carefreeness

without the burden of years

and there is no clock measuring the time

a total trip

without energizers

mischievous soul goes mad

violet carpet padded with happiness

and the heart wants to waltz

such dreams are pure joy in the morning

 

A Cup Of Truth

 

the dusty piano was standing in the corner

dying quietly

 

once every keystroke

filled the heart with music

 

now it decorates the living room

of the people with a wooden ear

 

pretends to be an imaginary ancestor

 

Trees Weep

When They Sink Into Oblivion

 

soon

gardens will stop bearing flowers

trees will wither

birds will not find a shelter

because a man will forget how to live

in harmony with nature

 

poets eulogists of nature

they fight for survival with words

they want to instill wisdom in the soul

of people without imagination

 

unfortunately, a ruthless decision-maker

whose greed takes his mind

kills and takes the oxygen of life


Ove Ending In The Abyss Of Water

 

he gave her a silver ring

before the tide took him away for ever

now it lies in the old jewel case from grandma

 

memories came back

whenever she went to the sea

she kept looking for some sign in the abyss of waves

she wanted to feel the touch and taste of lips

 

waves flooded her feet

she didn't feel the cold

another lonely tear

ran down her cheek

 

TRANSLATION OF POEMS EWA KUBERSKA

 

ALINA ANNA KUBERSKA

 

ALINA ANNA KUBERSKA was born in 1949 in Aleksandrów Łódzki, but she has lived all her adult life in Łódź. She is the mother of two daughters and a son. She has four granddaughters. She made her debut with the book "Angel in the vestibules" published in London. She also had her first soirée there. She is the author of six volumes. She also published two novels and two collections of short stories. Her poems are included in the literary bimonthly" Poetry Today ", Almanacs," White Chronicles "and several dozen Anthologies published in Poland and abroad. She has presented her poetry not only in Poland, but also abroad, including London, Birmingham and Lithuania. She is the vice-president of the Association of Polish Authors, Branch II in Warsaw, a member of the "Sochaczew Literary Evenings - ATUT" Association For several years she ran an international poetry portal. She treats her adventure with poetry as an escape into a better world. Writing gives her not only joy, but also great satisfaction that there is someone who reads poems and finds some of their experiences in them. She loves traveling and photography. She combines these passions, writing travel reports documented with photos. Her motto: "Art does not demand a sacrifice of life - you must love what you do, but you must not be enslaved."


ADNAN REKANY

 


ADNAN REKANY

 

Wamda Abandonment

 

Sorry tonight

identification small weddings

in the belly of the whale,

The abandonment is complete..!!

-------------------------------

All insects catch me

Spider web, after...

I migrated my little hut..!!

-----------------------------

 I painted desertion leaves

before reaching the shores,

The salt of ideas dissolves..!!

-------------------------

Bring the light of peace..

cut the jugular vein,

The secret of the sky refuses to be abandoned..!!

---------------------------

She honestly rolled her eyes

The letter of abandonment has passed,

Where is the interpretation of the hadith..?!!

----------------------------

Leap lines convulsed

With wrinkles of drunken times..

The desertion has an old wall..!!

-------------------------------

Age powders revealed

By reading the battle of gray hairs,

Abandonment is a blow to him..!!

 

Shadow The Axles

 

The poem is not complete

On the saddle of wild horses

Oh salt of taming...

I cross my shadow

After the laughter of the trapped breeze

And the taxes of a lifetime are hoarded towards us

Dark colors in the quiver of breaking

That swirl wasn't generous

Or a whirlwind in my inverted cup

For a palm reader that counts omens

death ahead..

I don't know the pause time

Except for your hands that are pointing

To go away!!

The demise of everything alive

tickles the height of a fleeing cloud غ

When you get rid of secretions

successively on an empty stomach

It only swallowed the pain..

My river does not flow with antelope horns

And don't shake hands with scarecrows in the fields

Confused collecting the sounds of birds العصا

After Al-Sanabel's abortion..

O slanting wind, don't wink

silence of the windmills

The loaf no longer hugs the lips

Enlighten my mother and do not flirt with her fingers

White dough breast..

Until the crackling of woodcuts

The woodcutter's ax changed!!

The Poet of Peace / Adnan Rikani

24/6/ 2021

 

Faint Gasps

 

Your chest groans...

Sahel hugs my hungry fingers

Preying on the wilt lung with a gasp

Raging bull running south

I hear nothing but the ringing of an anklet

Amazed by the silence

With the colors of the sunset flowing...

Wearing a seductive embroidered dress

Beads of nostalgia..

And the tongue falls out

From the sweetness of the Euphrates River.

And the Tigris of Goodness beckons Bendim

The dirt oozes from his lips

The fog of negligence dissipates, take care

And Mawil song..

She did not see the light her tunes

And every melody rushes to you

Hectic in the winter cold as my aches

It melts only with the touch of your hands

Penetrates into the pores of the earth

That delicate fragrance from your soft breath

And the dew of the dawn leaves..

And the heart sings with murmurs

The migratory wind to erase traces

Horseshoes on the dirt..

The Poet of Peace / Adnan Rikani

2021-01-30

 

ADNAN REKANY


AGRON SHELE

 


AGRON SHELE   


The Silent journey

 

Sailing on a boat, through a stormy sea

we distinguish the gaze following us from the shore

frightened of the fate that pushes us toward the wild waves, swollen with blood

down to the perturbed centuries

to the strange roots holding us in stasis

rotating around the satellite that extinguishes in the air

to the moment of abyss that separate life from death

of the lost illusion.

 

Again we wonder, trying to understand

the attempt in half dreams

on the wrinkled waves of tomorrow

under the mane of a horse that runs in a gust of wind,

through the nostrils of air

It is halted by the tether that pulls it

the footprints of the half of gallop are left

on the bank where the seafoam sleeps

and the Circes eyes are dissolute

 

Run, liberated from this rising like a mirage

breath and shape of this hectic darkness

like an everlasting song of this echo that attracts

our sorrow

the finish line

walking with youthful steps

and the grey aging through snowfall.

 

My Cypress

 

Every time that snow starts falling

I don’t know why I come to you

might be a promise;

the silent exchange of our stories

 

Mine are simpler

there’s no noise, no glory that you can listen to.

yours, I don’t know,

but I see the prints on your skin

and believe too many hands have touched you

they have prayed and asked for more love

met with a bowing of the head and a Namaste

that you hold deep in your soul.

 

Here I am again today

you know, when the snowflakes start I will be here

I see the prints of the running wind as well

not those of the wind’s reindeer, because they are fare away

but just the pain that we feel, you and me

when wildly winds rock the top of the tree

shaking off the snow to your shoulders

to shelter more birds

As for me…I am shaken by silent memory

of people that I unconditionally love

 

My cypress,

there is no end to the odes and songs

that come to me

along with this cold air

which can’t ever strip your green joy

as it murmurs in your branches,

as for me, I do not need more than a greeting when I come

always unspeakably understanding each other

you, still in your world of old love reposing

I, again forgotten on my bench

 

I need to lit a cigarette and see through the smoke,

the reappearance of what is gone

whereas I am stealing your body

and take it with me, to my very last station.

 

Conversation With Charles Baudelaire

 

You always came in the same way

sometimes as a ghost

stuck in the grey matter of the brain

other times as a bad flower’s blossom

even as it appears in dark colors

shows the greatness of a painting of a sea

the white sails of a ship that comes and goes away

from the bewildered and confused sight of the eyes

or the lily of the lake shining

on the body of life

body and soul sorrow endeavored

devils and angels

painted centuries ago by masters on the chapels.

 

I am sure that your sight is fixed at these same church

with different appearances

you were crazy about horses’ manes

at the cattle fair

whereas I, get caught amongst the traffic, at the same cross road

at the same cobblestone plaza that look like Cadmus teeth

those letters

what you murmured until the last breath

as the most glorious soul of sorrow

that never got the peace…!

 

Note: Today I was at the same church that Charles Buadelaire used to go and lit a remembrance candle for his soul.

 

Like The Apple

(Persian motif)

 

How is it sweet and so full of sorrow

how is it sacred but pushes you to sin

stays like a flame that devours your eyes

enough to see it, all memory is gone.

 

Fruit lit in flames, the tempted hand

oblong to transgression there, in Eden

the bite of worship, fate of the mortals

the madness of Eve, dissolution of Adam

 

Again the flaming red, of an adulated heart

the stretches of fingers, touching, trembling

the call of the witch lost in the forest

the silent Snow White waiting in daydreams

 

Then a blossoming tree coming in spring

the wave of the season sailing with the wind

embrace is the only trophy on the crown

the last radiance rooted on the apple.

 

Translated By Merita Paparisto

 

AGRON SHELE

 

AGRON SHELE (Albania - Belgium). President of the International Poetical Galaxy “Atunis”. Agron Shele was born in October 7th, 1972, in the Village of Leskaj, city of Permet, Albania.  Is the author of the following literary works: “The Steps of Clara” (Novel), “Beyond a grey curtain” (Novel), “Wrong Image” (Novel) , “Innocent Passage” (Poetry), Whiste stones ( poetry) RIME SPARSE -Il suono di due voci poetiche del Mediterraneo (Poesie di Agron Shele e Claudia Piccinno),  La mia Musa (“Libri di-versi in diversi libri” – Italy, 2020); murmure d’ un autre monde (poetry),  “Ese-I and Ese-II) ” .  Mr. Shele is also the coordinator of International Anthologies: “Open Lane- 1,” “Pegasiada , Open Lane- 2 , ATUNIS magazine ( Nr 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 )” and Atunis Galaxy Antholgy 2018, 2019, 2020.  He is  winner of some international literary prizes. Is a member of the Albanian Association of Writers, member of the World Writers Association, in Ohio, United States, Poetas del Mundo, WPS, Unione world Poetry and the President of the International Poetical Galaxy “Atunis”. He is published in many newspapers, national and international magazines, as well as published in many global anthologies: Almanac 2008, 2017; World Poetry Yearbook 2009, 2013, 2015,  The Second Genesis -2013, Kibatek 2015-Italy, Metafora (Poland),  Keleno- Greece,  etc.  Currently Resides in Belgium and continues to dedicate his time and efforts in publishing literary works with universal values.