Monday, August 1, 2022





No matter

if you are

in heavenly projections

on earth

or in outstanding

parallel zones,

the place

which is paradise

the most

is called



The Mountain In My Homeland


Autumn is blowing,

this colorful mandala,

with a scent of roasted chestnuts

and flocks flew away.

And sometimes darkness

covers us completely, pressed us,

as autumn is also a home to migraines, so gray,

melancholy, a paradise for elegies, apart us.

And when the last colors fall off,

it becomes so wistful, so dewed.

And the seasons, so transient, so shoved

but they are repeated, again, renewed.

The stone figures,

there in the mythical mountain,

they talk to us with the echo,

they warn us of eternity.


The Best


Your voice to me is as a song of nightingale,

that wakes me up each charming morning.

Your arms are warm as blanket in the winter.

My days are starting as enchanted game

and I go out to meet the new rewarming.

And every step I do on streets, I mingle.

Though it is always best

the moment I come home in evenings,

when I can see you waiting at our living

and we together after, simply rest.


Lazy Sunday


The day is grey, no silver linings.

The day is freezing as the winter's son.

And there is nothing tempting in it,

I'm only able staying home.


This Sunday, long as smoothy jazz,

so lazy as baby koala on a branch,

so heavy as giant topaz,

relaxing as holiday in March.




DESSY TSVETKOVA is Bulgarian who writes poems in Bulgarian and in English. She lived in Luxembourg and currently she lives and works in Belgium. Dessy has publications in many Bulgarian magazines and newspapers, also in Romania, Belgium, USA, India, Peru, Philippines.  She has 4 books in Bulgarian, 1 in English, and she has also compiled a book as translator from Bulgarian into English, an anthology of Bulgarian top authors. She writes about nature, love and God, and her accent is the positive message at the final. Member of Flemish Party for Poetry.


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