A
WORLDWIDE
WRITERS’ WEB
PRESENTATION!
PUBLISHED
BY
OPA
OUR
POETRY ARCHIVE
ONLINE MONTHLY POETRY JOURNAL
https://ourpoetryarchive.blogspot.com
email us to:
**************************************
A
WORLDWIDE
WRITERS’ WEB
PRESENTATION!
PUBLISHED
BY
OPA
OUR
POETRY ARCHIVE
ONLINE MONTHLY POETRY JOURNAL
https://ourpoetryarchive.blogspot.com
email us to:
**************************************
NILAVRONILL SHOOVRO
TALKING WITH POET
SWAPNA BEHERA
JULY 2022
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.
SWAPNA BEHERA: Literature and poetry in particular
interest me so much because I can express whatever I wish to; my agony, my joy,
my voice against the social issues, my love for mother Nature, my pain for
child abuse etc . I can express anything under the sky in my poems or in
literature. I need words to express my dignity, my love; my existence
Through literature I can extend my sky, I can forgive, pray, talk to
the nature, yes, I need Words to live with. I need words
• Literature can take an
ethical stand of any aesthetic revolution. It is so versatile that you can be
an emperor or a beggar at the same time
• It feels good to
write, I am sane and madly in love with alphabets, words and themes. I am
obsessed with the spatial memories of the mystical journey and for me
literature is not hypocrisy but an honest confession.
NILAVRONILL: How do you relate your own
self existence with your literary life in one hand, and the time around you, in
the other.
SWAPNA BEHERA: I am a cosmic dot searching for my existence.
Here I quote my own poems
“The plasma vibrates
Posthumously declaring an axiom
The cells open the Pandora
box
Of the erratic estuaries
The reform peeps
through the strata
And my mystical soul
Is baptised silently - - - -
“
(From my poem Appearing and Disappearing)
“Me !!! Me !!!
A timid versatility
On the sea shore
Or
The prelude
of the horizon
Have the
trust
Strong enough
To see your
scribble
On the
palms of
the trembling shadow
A string of a violin
A grass
blade
smilies of dew drops
Where all emotions merge
To
one emptiness
As a dot I swim
As a dot I swim
- - - - “
(From my poem AS A DOT )
NILAVRONILL: Do you believe creative souls flourish more in turmoil than in peace?
SWAPNA BEHERA: Yes, creativity itself is the permutation and
combination of moments to celebrate and
a self-mechanism of healing process when
the words march forward carrying the
pain, agony ,human sufferings, emotional catharsis etc
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?
SWAPNA BEHERA: We talked of information explosion in the late
1980s, the information superhighways through the 1990s. We are so much
engrossed to leave our digital foot prints today but the Greater Peace is
always hash tagged with poetry of love, humanity and core values .Knowledge and information has to be updated but poetry is the eternal glow and flow of the perennial wisdom ...
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?
SWAPNA BEHERA: As I
have said I am a cosmic dot. I was a teacher in Kendriya Vidyalaya for a pretty
long time. Today my students and their children are with me. At times they
guide me with the modern technology
I am flexible and swim with the time, I work for environment and
listen to the Nature the great LOVE GURU
Isn’t our heart beat a lovely poetry? Long live poetry......
Long live the little angels who are the living poetry on the Earth.
Long live their dreams through poetry
My slogan is LISTEN TO THE TEARS and SAVE MOTHER NATURE
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?
SWAPNA BEHERA: Writers are the cosmic entity. They belong to
the global family and are beyond any boundaries of latitudes or longitudes.
They are the representative of any time zone that they wish to. That is why it
is told they are the second Gods or Goddesses. At times their culture, social
environment or the stigmas, taboos are reflected in their writing, their pen is
their strength. ...They are flexible. Hence,
they can break systems or create new enigmatic horizons because they are the
dawn makers and new SUNS in the horizon
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?
SWAPNA BEHERA: Tradition and modernization are two different terminologies.
The tradition does not always abide by the mythological parameters. Logics have
come into the picture. Too much of everything is an obsession, I think. At
times Nostalgia and memory drags to the suffering and violence. The thesis and
antithesis of feminine sexuality lies not in occupying the feminine space or
feminine body but lies in the exploration of the identity crisis. Sexuality,
political role play, social role and the expression of speech has overtaken the
challenges. People have become conscious on climate change So modernization has
taken place as a catalyst and shaped
our culture, literature.
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?
SWAPNA BEHERA: Yes, healthy literary criticism helps but
literary trafficking or literary stigmas sometimes become synonyms with
literary thematic and imposes crossing the ethical border line. Every time zone
has its own issue. I do believe every heartbeat is a poetry, language itself is
a value; the language employed by a poet has an intrinsic value to the poet as
well as to the readers A poet writes as a reflective poet when he stands on the
threshold of the outer world and as an introspective poet when on the threshold
of the inner world.
NILAVRONILL: Do you think society as a
whole is the key factor in shaping you up as a poet, or your poetry altogether?
SWAPNA BEHERA: I am a product and bye product of the Greater society;
society has shaped me, my culture, my sensuality, my values, my vision, my responsibilities
and so do the reflections. But at the same time my poetry has its own audacity
as I am too sensitive towards the teenager refugee girls at the refugee camps,
that’s why my poem “A night in the refugee camp” is translated into 67 languages
including some dialects. Some issues have the universal approach. My poetry or
short stories reflect them with all transparency and with the audacity of the
tears of my inner self. At the climax point my monologue and dialogues merge to
take the shape of a poetry
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?
SWAPNA BEHERA: People love literature. Literature is a serious
task. After globalization the technology has developed and people have less
time to sit and read books. E books have replaced hard copies. Personally, I
think consumerist world has developed a new species of literature i.e. Short,
specific with facts, less metaphors and imageries. A new renaissance has come. The
younger generation has started reading interactive novels. Ghost writers, ghost
readers have come to the picture
Very young school students have taken social platform to express. A
few have become authors at a very young age. There is multiple choice of mass,
media communication and ample opportunities for everyone to write which was not
in the scenario years back.
NILAVRONILL: We would like to know the
factors and the peoples who have influenced you immensely in the growing phase
of your literary life.
SWAPNA BEHERA: I write because I feel the urge to breathe.
Words pour upon me when I feel I am alone or lost in the crowd, whether in the
traffic square or near the bed of my ailing parents. I need to express various
emotions, When I travel, I see the greater scenario; my visions bubble and
compel me to write something. The nature has always impressed me a lot as most
of my childhood days I have spent in Kalahandi and Sundargarh jungle areas with
my working parents. I have seen the simple affectionate tribal people, the
struggle of their life and their transparent smiles, love and care. The
vibration from birds, rivers, streams and reflection of seasons in the forests
have mesmerized me…Being with my students for such a long period have kept me
alive with dynamic souls and in a continuous learning process. The dyslexia
student helping a physically challenged student on the wheel chair has
impressed me a lot and authentically sowed the pragmatic values within me. I
have seen a student who lost her father at an early age but selling sarees to
meet the expenses of the family. She is a chartered accountant now. Life’s
struggle and different strategies to solve it by different people have made me
write, may it be short stories or poems. I joined FB in 2015 after my
retirement, not so much well versed with it. I posted a poem ‘The Heritage of
The Lord’ on 11.1.2016. That very day the great eminent poet, painter, and
musician Ricardo Antonio Garcia of America in boxed me to take the approval for
publishing the same poem in the Anthology Tomb of Words. That was the turning
point. I was motivated and slowly entered English Poetry World although
beforehand I was writing in my mother tongue Odia. Today I miss him a lot as he
is no more. Everything is destined, I do believe. A journey can never be alone.
Always a journey starts and ends holding hands together. I have read the
sophisticated poems of the iconic poet Mr Jayant Mohapatra and observed his
very simple life style. That has impressed me a lot. Keki Daruwalla,K
Satchidandan’s poems have impressed me a
lot. When I was in class three my father who was a writer once asked me, “What
will you do after my death – write a poem based on this theme?” I was
surprised, puzzled and sad. But very bravely wrote a small optimistic poem.
Perhaps he taught me to think and express original thoughts and not to walk on
the cart tracks. A child’s subconscious was ignited to accept all blasting and
glories
NILAVRONILL: How would you
evaluate your contemporaries and what are your aspirations for or expectation
from the younger generation?
SWAPNA BEHERA: I learn a lot from my contemporaries. They are
apt in their own style. They are bold enough to speak a spade a spade. The
younger generation is amazing too, they are marching forward, The intensity of
their voice is prominent, crystal clear, and they are fearless
A good number of them are involved in the grassroot level to solve
the issues .so they have a broader vision. Globalization and localization have
taken a mingling twist in their creativity which I appreciate.
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?
SWAPNA BEHERA: Yes, I am hopeful because I am an optimistic person.
Being a teacher for years together I know the younger generation have
tremendous potentialities. They are apt in technology; they have stronger
exposure with the global issues. They are the crisis managers and they live collectively.
Any problem that comes they share and find a quick solution, I respect them and
their works. Social platform is giving an ample opportunity to each one to
express, that is the boon of the modern era. The tears of each one is the
concern of all.
NILAVRONILL: What role can literature in general play to bring a better day for every human being?
SWAPNA BEHERA: Every human being is unique; every human being
has INDIVIDUAL SOCIAL RESPONSIBILITY as well as the collective responsibility. We
have to raise our voice against social stigmas, inequalities, hunger, manmade
disparities, Violence, child abuse, substance abuse, deforestation and
degrading of Nature in the name of urbanization. Literature in general and
Poetry in particular assimilates, flies beyond borders and can paint the five elements.
It crosses the boundaries of culture, religion, caste, color and deletes all discriminations.
It is the logical logistic of millions of expressions. Knowledge is the
information and digital footsteps in the brain but poetry is the radiant dances
of the heart, by the heart and for the heart. Poetry can break the geographical boundaries. Poetry
is just like the pollen grains, the first monsoon for a farmer, breast milk for
a baby, dreams of a child. Yes, I do
believe poetry can lead the aesthetic movements. Poetry codifies the sojourn
journey of the soul from eyes to alphabets. Poetry is the alpha and omega.
Poetry heals inner wounds, protects values, germinates, rejuvenates, explores
and deletes the stigmas, taboos and detoxifies. Above all, poetry is the voice
of an orphan, widow and the environment.
Poetry is the strongest medium to delete the segregation, divisions,
inconsistencies ambiguities, contradictions and manmade concoctions. Today a
man is imprisoned in his own cage. Nature is the paramount poetry and great
Love Guru. Poetry creates the ruminations, purifies the inner self with
innumerable fragrances. Knowledge can argue with the collected information but
poetry is the song of the soul, a gift of the cosmic energy. So, poetry can
stand alone to speak for itself. Poetry is a BLISS with its own aura.
SWAPNA BEHERA is a trilingual
contemporary poet, author, translator, environmentalist and editor from Odisha,
India who writes in English, Hindi and Odia. She was a teacher of Mont Fort
School from 1984 to 1995 and a teacher of Kendriya vidyalaya from 1995 to 2015.
Her stories, poems and articles are widely published in National and
International journals, and ezines, and are translated into different national
and international languages. She has penned seven books of different genres
including one children's literature on Environment. She is the recipient of the
International Mother Language UGADI AWARD WINNER 2019, honored from Gujurat
Sahitya Akademi , International Poesis Award of Honor at the 2nd Bharat Award
for Literature as Jury in 2015, The Enchanting Muse Award in India World
Poetree Festival 2017, World Icon of Peace Award in 2017, and the Pentasi
B World Fellow Poet in 2017.. ATAL BIHARI BAJPAYEE Award 2018, Rabindranath
Tagore Award 2020,2022. Mahatma Surja Kumar Karfarma Memorial Honor 2020,
Konark Odisha award,Smt Simhadri VisalakshiMemorial Award FOR literary
Excellence 2019, International Life Time
Achievement Award the Honoured Poet of
India from the Seychelles Government accredited Literary Society LLSF and from
Algeria,Morocco, Kajhakhstan ,modern Arabic Literary Renaissance of Egypt, Republic of Kyrgyzstan; International
Arts Council Argentina etc. She has bagged nearly 50 National and International
Awards. Her one poem A NIGHT IN THE REFUGEE CAMP is translated into 67
languages. At present she is the
Cultural Ambassador for India and south Asia of Inner Child Press U.S. The
Chief Admin of India and Middle East zone of India office of the Motivational
strips. Cultural Convenor &Literary Coordinator of International Society for Intercultural Studies
and Research ISISAR of Eastern India. She is the life member of Odisha
Environmental Society, a peace activist whose motto is Listen to the tears and
Save Mother Earth for every child.
A Night In The Refugee Camp
In the refugee
camp of Afghanistan
Scorching days
of ‘No Water’
Desperate queue
of hours hue
Only a bucket
per a tent
Lusty eyes of
the guard
Craving gesture
of all horror
Precondition
placed by him
An extra bucket;
come for a night
Never a night
but explosive fight
Never comes the
dawn or peeps the Sun
Shahnaz a girl of fourteen
Awake whole
night in a fix
in her tent a
bucket for six!
Those five days
she needs water more
Restless Shahnaj
makes a deal
Better to be the
Begum of the guard
Instead of
burning every second
Can bathe and
wash all her parts
Monthly these
days will be stress-free
So what the
guard above sixty
Certainly, water
beyond all needs
Fourteen-year
Shahnaz chooses the path
Walks to the
guard slowly and slowly
“Uncle, will you
marry me?”
Copy right @ swapna Behera
(This poem is
translated into 67 languages and published in many National Na International
journals and magazines }
Migration At Zindagi.Com
Every migration
is harrowing
You cannot carry
the well
The old broom or
the doormat
Or your granny’s
patchwork bed sheet
Even your
diaspora heart
That craves for
berries, mangoes
And guavas of
the backyard
Every migration
is painful
You have to
carry the domicile certificate,
Your I Card and
Aadhar
But you cannot
carry
The tea shop of
the Nukkad
Where people
play Holy
Sing Kirtans in
the evenings
You may carry
the bucket
But not the
water
You may carry
the deity
But not the
enchanting echo of the mantras
You can carry
the memory
But certainly
not the scenery
Every migration
burns within
But projects to
be damn cool outside
Migrations leave
behind night jasmines
A flowing river
that taught you swimming
A mountain that
gave you height
A spring season
that blossoms love within you
Those rice
powder Rangoli
Marigold flowers
in the courtyard
The fresh Hilsha
fish of Padma
Porridge cooked
on bamboo leave stoves
Mustard flowers
in winter
The fresh green
veggie
On the banana
leave plates
Migration makes
you a solitary reaper
On the Metros
Escalator
But yes you can
stay in the Holiday Resorts
To upload a
photo in the Face book
All that you
have left behind
You will buy a
living fish in a jar
To show your
child a new zone
Zone of
Zindagi.com..........
The Juvenile Time Zone
The illuminated
satellites
With floundering
credible numerals
The robot with a
portable heart in the briefcase
The synthetic
salad on the plates
Malfunction of
the globe’s wardrobe
Dissolving
glacier
The radiating
reading glasses
The planet will
hire a story teller and a Love Guru
The lucrative
smiles of granny
from the frames
of the heritage
A peeping melody
of a canary bird
From the horizon
The last
hibiscus in the park
The lost tiger
in the cemetery
Love, the
costliest spice in the diaspora cuisines
Little eyes
gazing to ozone
with the mask of
oxygen
The diaphragm of
time will crack
The impulsive
butterfly will fly
A fairy will
reborn as a Banyan Tree
Rag pickers will
dance with books
The mothers will
hold digital progeny
The Earth will
celebrate a new dawn
The squandered
forests will spring
the Anthems of a new Time Zone.....
Knock ! Knock !
Be silent dear islands, mountains and
rivers
The youth tired and weary
withered; in hibernation
Searching Google to express emotions of
love
Just a minute; let him sleep and dream
Love swirls, swims in his blood
Love is accredited or debited
Or is it never deposited?
Nations are drops of dew in the bucket of
winter
Love is in the nests of sparrow
Is love a portrait or a proposal?
hung in the front room with dry flowers
Dear leaves don’t ever feel degraded
The Google is colourful
The ducks are muddy in the real pond
Is there none to welcome love?
The child is alone in his own planet
Where is the whistling?
Where is the canopy?
No hip hop of visions
Everywhere the traffic of money
Knock knock
May be love at the door
with astounding graphics of eternal logo
Listen to the splendour of the nature,
forests and rivers
They are the
love makers,
song makers and
profound progeny
The cumus or cupids !!
Knock knock
.......
A Poet Is Dying Tonight
A poet is dying
tonight;
In a panacea of
blood
Enough of
transfusion, transmission
And lots of
confusion
He is in love
with the widow droplets on the grass
Love is a forbidden
Adam’s apple
A poet is a pet
or the Jagir of the society
His heart is on
lease
He can neither
smile or cry
Has to be in the
syndrome of hangover
A poet is dying
tonight
Tired and
sleepless,
wrapping the
blankets of the stars
The tattoo of
time on his soul
Is he the broken
bangle pieces
to celebrate
peace?
Or a prism to
refract the beam of light?
A stamped flesh
hung in the butcher’s shop?
A poet is dying
tonight; before comes the twilight
The world is
ready for the funeral condolences
Let him die
peacefully
For thousands
are in the queue
To be the
martyrs, to be the poets ..........l
SWAPNA BEHERA
SWAPNA BEHERA is a trilingual
contemporary poet, author, translator, environmentalist and editor from Odisha,
India who writes in English, Hindi and Odia. She was a teacher of Mont Fort
School from 1984 to 1995 and a teacher of Kendriya vidyalaya from 1995 to 2015.
Her stories, poems and articles are widely published in National and
International journals, and ezines, and are translated into different national
and international languages. She has penned seven books of different genres
including one children's literature on Environment. She is the recipient of the
International Mother Language UGADI AWARD WINNER 2019, honored from Gujurat
Sahitya Akademi , International Poesis Award of Honor at the 2nd Bharat Award
for Literature as Jury in 2015, The Enchanting Muse Award in India World
Poetree Festival 2017, World Icon of Peace Award in 2017, and the Pentasi
B World Fellow Poet in 2017.. ATAL BIHARI BAJPAYEE Award 2018, Rabindranath
Tagore Award 2020,2022. Mahatma Surja Kumar Karfarma Memorial Honor 2020,
Konark Odisha award,Smt Simhadri VisalakshiMemorial Award FOR literary
Excellence 2019, International Life Time
Achievement Award the Honoured Poet of
India from the Seychelles Government accredited Literary Society LLSF and from
Algeria,Morocco, Kajhakhstan ,modern Arabic Literary Renaissance of Egypt, Republic of Kyrgyzstan; International
Arts Council Argentina etc. She has bagged nearly 50 National and International
Awards. Her one poem A NIGHT IN THE REFUGEE CAMP is translated into 67
languages. At present she is the
Cultural Ambassador for India and south Asia of Inner Child Press U.S. The
Chief Admin of India and Middle East zone of India office of the Motivational
strips. Cultural Convenor &Literary Coordinator of International Society for Intercultural
Studies and Research ISISAR of Eastern India. She is the life member of Odisha
Environmental Society, a peace activist whose motto is Listen to the tears and
Save Mother Earth for every child.
Happiness
a night without
pillows
dawn
wind
snow
a caress behind
the ear
Butterflies
butterflies in
palm
when the acres
rain with apples
on the
glistering ground
with droplets of
dew
to sleep under
that bliss
ripe in the sun
nothing more
Mom
all those
little
things
sandwiches
that smell of
chicken
strong tea
on the table
button up your
coat, it’s raining
time stood still
yesterday
the world curled
up
in a tiny ball
rivers dried up
mountains shrunk
the world is
gone
without you
heaven too
since you…
were heaven
KATARZYNA DĄBECKA
Columns
Greyish columns
stately
enduring through
time.
Their wrinkles
have not changed
Still present as
before
And yet broader,
Nobler.
Wisdom is shut
In between their
dull walls
That try to
withstand,
It struggles not
to remain silent.
Slowly I walk in
front of them
With the respect
of standing
before saints:
Zealous masters
carved amongst
disciples,
silent figures
within centuries.
Very well I know
it,
the fertile seed
was planted.
In Athens
Your divine soul
a desert mirage
chases me
everywhere
in the numerous
streets of Athens.
Attempting to
see it,
Suddenly goes
away.
Plays a
hide-and-seek game
Of blinding
visions.
Up there,
between the columns
of the Acropolis
wanders in the
house of gods.
At times
Aphrodite,
Diana at times.
Your fate is
written:
Always on the
wing
from the ancient
past
to the present
we are in.
The Same Café
I came again to
drink coffee
To this simple
bar
Without
twinkling luxuries
When once dry
the thirst
In scorching
summer heat.
I came to drink
a glass
With my friends
once
Very best, very
wise,
Although less
gray.
Years slowly
depress meetings
With no hustle
goodbye.
Silenthy one by
one
With no return
ticket
They have taken
the long road.
There is nothing
else here inside
Except sweet memory
In the endless
Glasses to roll
With great
longing that dried us.
ARJAN KALLCO
ARJAN KALLCO: Poet, prose writer,
translator, scholar, journalist, comes with several books of poetry, then some
others in prose and translations from Italian to Albanian and vice versa. He
has translated: Italian Proverbs Italian Love poems short stories of Italian
writers in the '80s The good old man and the beautiful girl (a novel). Sailing
on waves (The Anthology of the Italian Contemporary poets) as well as lots of Italian
poetries published in newspapers, magazines and different websites. He is the
author of some books of poetry such as: Bewildered by your Immensity (poem
written during his stay in Greece). Real life images (poems written in Italy).
Flying in time (poems written during a trip in several European countries) A
bilingual version (Albanian - Greek, Italian - Greek) of his first book of
poetry. Bewildered by your Immensity. He is the author of two books with short
stories. Quikly broken dreams Sparkles through the clouds. In 2014 he comes
with his first book of Haiku (poetry): Rays of Aureoles In 2016 he published
two books of Haiku one in italian
language: 1. Dancing of the leaves ( Original title "La danze delle
foglie") 2. Longing of poetry. He regularly takes part in different
contests in Europe such as Italy, Albania, Kosovo, Greece and America as well
and his poems are published in the respective anthologies. He is a bilingual writer in both prose and poetry
and has won several prizes in different contests and events. On January 2014,
in the Italian Headquarters of European Parliament, he won the prize " One
poet for Europe". Festival of Struga, July 2014. First prize in Ulcinj,
November 2014. Second prize in Ulcinj, November 2015. Third prize in Italy,
video poetry 2015. Various prizes in literary events in Albania. Salamina,
Greece, Gold prize, Great Alexander, October 2016. Excellent prize in Italy,
2019. Career prize in Italy, 2019
I'm On The Morning, At Dawn
I'm on the morning, at dawn
I'll go out to a clear stream.
I 'll take water in the palm of my hand,
I'll sprinkle all the glades.
Barefoot on pure dew
I'll fly like the wind.
I 'll braid the sun 's braids
And I'll light a candle for dawn.
I'll collect daisies in the field,
I'll collect forget-me-nots.
I'll let the sadness go free,
Let it flutter in the wind.
Give me strength, the wind is free,
Sveta, the sun is the soul!
Our freedom is good,
And I'm a good girl!
Pour out, my song,
By lakes and ponds.
Along the thin paths in the forest,
Yes, by gentle, by colors.
Let him hear my dear friend
And he will pick up my song.
How I loved him,
I also love him!
Mom
It's always like I'm in the cradle,
After all, your love is warm with me.
Mom, Mom, blizzards and blizzards
They settled down a long time ago.
For me, you are the
dearest,
I'll tell you more
than once.
Only to you, without
understanding love,
I'll tell you all the
secrets.
I said I'd be naughty,
Ran away with a light breeze,
But you always knew that I needed
Only your hands to be warm.
I know that you will
always accept me,
Even if I'm wrong.
As always, you will
embrace with all your heart,
You will find the right words.
The heart is like a stone cooling down,
If something is wrong.
Just don't let your love melt,
The rest, Mom, is nothing.
Mood
You take the mood with you,
Yes, such that the soul sang!
Look around, no doubt
It's good to live, and life is good!
Let the winds of separation, let the unfaithful friend,
But doubts away, I want to help!
Even if everything goes awry,
Everything will pass, know that it's nothing!
Say hello to those who frown
And thickens all the colors around,
Who frowns from bright days forever,
Who suddenly has a broken heel.
You don't even know, life gives a lesson,
And doubts away, I want to help!
Even if everything goes awry,
Everything will pass, know that it's nothing!
IRINA VALENTINOVNA SHULGINA
IRINA VALENTINOVNA
SHULGINA,
Honored Worker of Culture of the Krasnoyarsk Territory. Academician of the
Petrovsky Academy of Sciences and Arts (St. Petersburg). Academician
International Academy for the Development of Literature and Art (Canada).
Academician of the Academy of Literature, Art and Communication/BLICK
(Germany). Member of the International Union of Writers (Moscow). Member of the
Writers' Union of North America and the International Union of Performing
Authors...
С уважением, Шульгина Ирина Валентиновна,
Заслуженный работник культуры Красноярского края. Академик Петровской академии
наук и искусств (СПб). Академик Международной академии развития литературы и
искусства (Канада). Академик академии литературы, искусства и коммуникации/ЛИК
(Германия).
Член Интернационального
союза писателей (Москва). Член союза писателей Северной Америки и
Международного союза Авторов - Исполнителей...