Wednesday, February 1, 2023

FEBRUARY 2023 V-8 N-11













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or how our understanding of the time concept is shaped by language


Time is of your own making;

Its clock ticks in your head.

The moment you stop thought

Time too stops dead.

Angelus Silesius


          Time, in its sheer diversity of aspects, is a favourite motif in literature in general and poetry in particular. We talk and write day in day out about time, but, as experience shows, when it comes to defining it, we are at a loss for words. What is time, after all? The history of mankind can hardly provide a second example of a percept in which such an extensive amount of deliberation, research and presuppositions has been invested and which is nevertheless so difficult to grasp, or even, according to some opinions, non-existent.

          Is time a product of our mind and as such language-dependent? Starting with Homo sapiens's cave pictures of sceneries such as hunting, copulation and birth, indicative of humans' awareness of the transience and repetition of events, up to Einstein's revolutionary theories of relativity, and later to Penrose's and Hawking's provoking theories of endless singularities and black holes, the human civilisation has continually attempted to solve the mystery of time. It goes without saying that this complex assignment cannot be the task of one discipline alone. In addition to philosophy, physics, mathematics, anthropology, sociology and others, literature, too, is required to investigate further facets of this complex assignment.

          Humans' involvement with time is presumably as old as mankind itself. Earliest evidence of concern with time was found on the Tigris and Euphrates, where ancient cultures took a special interest in lunar observation, using astronomy to determine time (cf. Mainzer 2002, Chap. 1). The Sumerians, followed by the Babylonians, were the first to develop a moon-based calendar, as they lacked the necessary knowledge of the Solar System. Though their calendar is no longer in use, we still divide the year into 12 months, the day into 24 hours, the hour into 60 minutes, and the minute into 60 seconds because they used a duodecimal counting system based on number 12 (cf. Staas, 2005). While also using astronomy to investigate time, the Egyptians grounded their observations rather on the sun and the movement of stars. Accordingly, they determined a night roughly divided into 12 'hours' ('hour' being different from what we call hour today), and a year of 36 decades. Where knowledge was lacking, they recurred to mythology, in which gods like Isis and Osiris were made responsible for various celestial movements. Therefore, from the very beginning, observation data and imaginings of the mind were mingled into an amalgam of fiction and reality. Nevertheless, the Egyptian variant of time division, called the Sothic period, is the predecessor of our modern calendar (cf. Mainzer, 2002: 4).

          Observation of the regularity of physical phenomena, including periodic celestial movements, as well as the everyday necessity to orientate in a certain interval or duration must have been among the premises for man's attempt to develop some devices to better approach time as main component of his existence. A detailed survey of how the concept of time evolved through centuries and millennia goes beyond the scope of this essay, so I will jump to some aspects of contemporary research in the time field as related to verbal behaviour.

          One of the most assiduous scientists in this respect is Lera Boroditsky, an overt supporter of the theory of linguistic relativity. In her paper “Does Language Shape Thought?: Mandarin and English Speakers' Conceptions of Time”, she posed some fundamental questions regarding the diversity of languages, namely whether people who speak different languages think about the world differently, whether learning new languages also changes our patterns of thinking, and whether polyglots structure reality anew, according to the languages they are speaking. Before dealing with these questions empirically, Boroditsky pointed to the facts that, in spite of the sheer variety of temporal aspects across cultures, these also share common components of experience such as: each instant only occurs once, events have a beginning and an end, time is unidirectional and we cannot go back in time. On the other hand, there are other aspects of time that are not similarly tangible and which leave open queries such as: does time move horizontally or vertically, from left to right or from right to left, upwards or downwards?

          Boroditsky appreciated that many answers to these questions are provided by language itself: in our verbal behaviour we very often use spatial metaphors to talk about time. We look forward to a brighter future, think ahead of our time, or fall behind schedule. Therefore we use terms from the domain of space to talk about time. Not being physically conditioned by our own experience with time, these aspects are expected to be arbitrarily shaped by different languages. The extent to which this supposition is true was investigated by Boroditsky in three experiments in which time expressions in English and Mandarin language were compared. She started with the assumption that, since Mandarin and English people talk about time differently, they, consequently, have different ways of conceiving of time. This difference in speech is rooted in the fact that the English predominantly talk about time in horizontal terms, while Mandarin commonly use vertical time descriptions. The results of Boroditsky's experiments significantly showed that the use of horizontal spatial metaphors (English) engendered the habit of thinking about time horizontally, whereas the opposite situation was revealed by the use of Mandarin. The borrowing of spatial terms to describe time is conditioned by the fact that time cannot be  experienced in the same tangible way in which space is.

A great deal of time metaphors – surprising, puzzling, amusing, instructive, provocative – is to be found in the inexhaustible source of human wisdom provided by proverbs. Proverbs supply synchronic and diachronic knowledge at the same time. On the one hand, they are the gradual summing up of the experience of generations over hundreds of years, on the other hand, they are available in quotidian use in many languages, and accessible to comparison, analysis and evaluation. Again, diverging perspectives in various languages on what time is or does can influence the reception of literary as well as non-literary verbal contents. There are languages with proverbs in which time is a healer, whereas in others it is a destroyer. It can appear as a master or as a servant. The imagery can be amazingly powerful, like in the following examples:

German:  Die Zeit frisst Berg und Tal,

      Eisen und Stahl.

      (Time devours mountain and valley,

      iron and steel.)

English:  Time undermines us. Time is the rider that breaks youth.

French:  Le temps tout dévore.

     (Time devours everything.)

Spanish:  El tiempo que todo lo devora.

     (Time devours everything.)

When we read similar time metaphors in poems written by poets from all corners of the world, can we take it for granted that the perception of these metaphors is identical or at least consistent with all readers? Further research and comparative research is needed to cast light on these and similar issues.

          Now, in which way do these findings relate to Our Poetry Archive? Considering our international poetic platform as an encounter of poets from various countries and even continents, with a large variety of languages, each with its own specific features, but all translated into English, one can but marvel at the proficiency exhibited by both poets and readers in the process of writing and deciphering poetry. The human mind is a wonder of evolution.


Boroditsky, Lera, 2001, “Does Language Shape Thought?: Mandarin and English Speakers' Conceptions of Time”, Cognitive Psychology 43, pp. 1-22.

Mainzer, Klaus, 2002, The Little Book of TIME, transl. by Josef Eisinger, Springer-Verlag New York.

Staas, Christian, 2005, Die Geschichte des europäischen Zeitbewusstseins: Wie das Tempo in die Welt kam in Zeit, das ewige Rätsel, GEOWISSEN, Nr. 36. pp. 78-93.

Zank, Aprilia, 2013, THE WORD IN THE WORD Literary Text Reception and Lingistik Relativity, Lit Verlag, Berlin,  pp. 43-92


April Zank


 Maria Miraglia

Talking With Poet


February 2023


MARIA MIRAGLIA: When did you approach poetry?


GAURI DIXIT: I was always fond of reading. I would read everything that came my way, Marathi, English, fiction, nonfiction, novels, stories. Not much of poetry though. It was sometime in 2013, when I read poems pasted by a colleague in an internal forum. I then got interested in reading poetry and eventually writing. 


MARIA MIRAGLIA:  Do you think of anyone to dedicate your words when writing?


GAURI DIXIT: I write about life and its ironies. At times I write about love and nature. All these poems are inspired by life experiences or observations of life. And they are not dedicated to / inspired by any one person .


MARIA MIRAGLIA:  Air, water, earth and fire. What element would you like to be in poetic terms?


GAURI DIXIT: I would love to be fire, for fire keeps life going even if it burns. Fire is always true to to its nature, it does not take on any other colour like water and it is not invisible like air. Fire is passion.


MARIA MIRAGLIA:  Do you listen to music while writing? If so, what kind?


GAURI DIXIT: When I listen to a song, I get immersed in its meaning, I connect with the words. That is why I only ever listen to instrumental music while writing or studying. Birdsongs also are an inspiration for writing.


MARIA MIRAGLIA:  What did you feel when you held your first book  in  the hands?


GAURI DIXIT: Pure joy and nothing but joy 🙂


MARIA MIRAGLIA:  Where does poetry come from?


GAURI DIXIT: Poetry often comes from a dark place, a lonely corner, a dingy alley where the words are struggling to go out into light. At times even a sunny day could produce a poem or two. Memories are always favourite haunts of my poems and so are ironies of life.


MARIA MIRAGLIA:  Is there a time of the day when you prefer writing?


GAURI DIXIT: Any time that I have space and time is a good time to write poetry. Very early when everyone else hasn’t woken up yet or very late when everyone has gone to sleep, those are the best times to write.


MARIA MIRAGLIA:  Does writing come from the heart or from the mind?


GAURI DIXIT: I would say both. When I am trying out forms, it is always the mind / brain that understands the mechanics and chooses words very carefully and writes. And at rest of the times, it is always the  heart.


MARIA MIRAGLIA:  What do you think of poetry and poets on the web?


GAURI DIXIT: I would always be grateful that I found a group on the web called The Significant League founded by Dr Ampat Koshy that encourages and nurtures poets. This is where I learned to read and appreciate poetry, those is where I read some good poetry and wrote some too. Web at times becomes a distraction however, the focus gets shifted to people’s likes and comments, genuine feedback/ critique is neither given nor accepted. Like every other place web has its share of good and bad poets and poetry.


MARIA MIRAGLIA:  Who are your favourite contemporary poets and why?


GAURI DIXIT: I love the poetry by Margaret Atwood. I was deeply impacted by her long poem half hanged Mary. Margaret Atwood wrote this poem about her ancestor, Mary Webster. She was accused, and acquitted of witchcraft and was lynched. She survived the attack and thus earned her name, and her freedom. I love the poetry of Dr Ampat Koshy, unique, edgy and interesting. He is also a wonderful teacher and mentor to many. I love Dr Santosh Bakaya for her rich vocabulary and the varied subjects that she writes her poems about, Sunita Singh for her simple and powerful poems, Satbir Chadha for her calm voice, Feby Joseph for his fabulous poetry, I could go on and on and on….



GAURI DIXIT is a software professional from Pune writing in English and Marathi. Gauri’s poems have been featured in Haiku KATHA, Learning & Creativity, Glomag, Spillwords, Narrow Road etc. Her first collection 'In My Skin I Find Freedom' was published in 2018 for which she won Reuel International Prize - best upcoming poet.





Poem 1


Poems in my mind

Dying a natural death

At times not so natural

When I strangle them

At the risk of suffocating myself


What will happen

If they don’t die

Maybe I will dye them

Pink and blue

And pass them off


As decorations

For birthdays, anniversaries, celebrations

And even if I don’t dye them

They could create good ambiance

Perfect for funerals


Poem 2






is it a mere coincidence that the days

dedicated to them all fall in March?

it doesn't matter that they fall everyday.


every sparrow that I have ever known

heard about has been a woman;

if not a mother nurturing, giving


the sparrow man is no one's muse


since we are talking about the muse,

I have to ask you this question

have I stopped being yours now?

you still write about that young, nubile girl


you grope me

And then words

realizing that you like the feel of poetry better,

you leave me alone

what would I have done if poetry didn't exist?


Poem 3


Love, loving, lover

Now an ocean

Now a wolf


One day it may be a shape you like

Another day it may be someone you hate

Love is nothing


If not a maze mate

Love hides

Love seeks


Love goes dumb

Love speaks

Love stumbles


Love scours skies

Love lives

Love dies


Love is the word

That occupies your world

You take the beast on


Hoping that love will tame his haughty soul

But you forget that loving and being a lover

Have nothing to do with each other


Poem 4


In the midst of wilderness

A tiny bee

And I


Amidst the hustle bustle of a cruise

Your song

And I


We dance

And dance

And dance

To our heart's content


We leave our feet

On a quiet beach

Making rounds in the warm sand


While our hands

Play the piano

In a quaint little cafe down the road


Our voices

Don't miss us

Singing loudly to the karaoke beats


Our hearts beat

To the beloved's bidding

Melting with the afternoon heat



Our pieces find their own way

Like we do

Through the maze


At the end of the day

All of it will come together

We will leave this place

In one piece


Poem 5


Colours of the parrot wings rub on my shoulders

I wait for the wings to sprout from the green boulders

The atmosphere is electrified with anticipation even the wind has paused

The bird is unaware of the commotion that it has caused


Time doesn't stop as day approaches noon

In a few hours the Sun will set, making way for the Moon

I do not flinch, I do not move, wings will appear soon

Hopeless optimism has always been my boon


With rising temperature, the green fades

Those grey shades are definitely not the parrot's jade

Anyway, wings of any colour are better than the green grass blades

I don't waiver, I don't bat an eyelid, positivity I have in spades


It is dark now all colours have gone black

Wings are nowhere to be seen even the parrot has folded his back

For not moving sooner I am busy giving myself flak

Not an inch of progress now who will cut me some slack


GAURI DIXIT: is a software professional from Pune writing in English and Marathi. Gauri’s poems have been featured in Haiku KATHA, Learning & Creativity, Glomag, Spillwords, Narrow Road etc. Her first collection 'In My Skin I Find Freedom' was published in 2018 for which she won Reuel International Prize - best upcoming poet.



Thinking About God


Since the first questions on arche*

the search for


has relentlessly exposed the yearning.

Between the harmony of the elusive

and the timeless, you attract

human intuitions and become the source

of our desires.

It is your nature to actively partake

in the development of the world, directing

single events towards Your Godly Ideals.

You accept the roles of a Cosmic Poet

and a good shepherd.

Your reality is much different

from the physical world.

Each attempt to describe it shall resemble

the game of the shadows on the walls

of Plato’s cave.

My Creator, for me you are not

an abstract rule or a candidate

for the obituary in the heritage

of death-of-god theology.

You display what we became striving

for the creation we could have been.

Translated By Jakub  Sajkowski


(Arche – from Greek ρχή, ethymologically means a rule, a reason, and in the presocratic philosophy it means the primal reason of all being, the primal substace which made all things happen; at the same time it means the basic element of reality)

Aleksandra Sołtysiak




Repleted with devotion

via the quiet torrent,

it spreads its wings


signaling from the depths of the continuum…

where the cosmos’ roads part ways.

With sighs of weakness

the age of truth’s inaugurated

in the hour of hunger,

sharpened in a flash

that illuminates the heights

of the gallery

of the universe.

Translated By  Jeremy  Pomeroy



The mist’s brisk shadow hinders the drops

that brush the edges of the eye’s empty pupil;

infallible elemental knowledge,

bounded by a degree of uncertainty

as to the naked current of remorse:

the ripped-out inner lining of conscience

doesn’t double back towards the Heavens,

yet the soul’s vault swells to hold the glory

of an as-yet unanswered prophecy

Translated By  Jeremy  Pomeroy




ALEKSANDRA SOŁTYSIAK (Poland), a graduate of the Catholic University of Lublin and of Jagiellonian University in Kraków. She has served as co-editor of the poetry anthology Dotyk nadziei (“The Touch of Hope”), which has been translated into Ukrainian and German, as well as of the international anthology in support of world peace Zieleni się drzewo pokoju / Poezja europejska w intencji powszechnej zgody / The tree of peace turns green / European poetry for universal harmony, which has been translated into Polish and English. She is also the author of Nadzieja kwitnie dłużej (“Hope blossoms longer”) and of the published poetry volume Wysypane ze szkatułki (“Spilled from the cases”). A finalist in the fourth International Poetry Contest “Voices in the Wilderness”, held in Rome (2022), her poems have been published both in Bulgaria and also in the Polish journals Akant, Poezja dzisiaj and Migotania, as well as on the online portal She has also been awarded the Gold Cross of Merit by Polish president Andrzej Duda.



Shadowy Nightmare


An unknown shadow on the wall

My cat and I are frightened

She sees a giant lion roaring

And I see myself becoming Ill

We embrace each other like little orphans

Waiting for the dawn

To sweep away our fear

To smother the giant dark, shadowy


With its shiny giant rays.


Into Freedom





And cloud

On the waves of freedom






And dream

On the waves of freedom



And the man

Cannot easily catch the wave

And freedom to conquer.


So he sits and waits

The right moment

Favorable wind

To sail away in his boat

Into freedom.




A smile across the face

An expected lenity

Soft touch

Of tender hands

Warm words

Melting hearts

And goodness.

Why couldn't we all be like this?

Why not to love each other?

Instead of being cruel?

Why not lenity?

Why all this harshness?

This world is composed of opposites

Dualism of good and bad

Light and dark

Water and blood.

Lenity is what we need

As we need God's love

And his embrace.




The Planet That Doesn't Sleep At Night


The planet that never sleeps at night

it gives stars in people's minds

in the morning with a new story waiting

without withholding the multitude of details

so when light begins to play with nature

retro shadows of the soul wonder...


The planet does not sleep at night

which has massive dreams in its bosom

and it has long been subscribed to the future

precise when loving

practical when she hates

chronologically the key of the heart turns...


The planet does not sleep at night

that believes in ghosts and things like that

she makes a wish list

scheduling a meeting with the k`smet

outside the framework of tradition

where minds with deep intentions awaken...


All Our Linds


All our lindens

share happiness in small steps,

spreading fragrance through the play of the heart,

and we make fast decisions,

 with the fifth chakra we change the world


All our lindens

choose freedom every day

then we leave the excuses

in the forest of consciousness,

 without excess thoughts

we are waiting behind the wild garden


All our lindens

they have a short memory

because of our destiny

from unusual opportunities

and from the greeting of souls

that drag a traditional past


All our lindens

they are on a mission to bring us together in mature love

without testing the intense reality

towards an authentic future

before the altar of living blood

we breathe in lindens, we breathe out recycled life


All our lindens

they smell just like the original ones

arranged in order of splendor on the staircase of memories

insurmountably close to the end of reserves

while we stand before the intuitive mirror

as a reflection of the timid dance of life


The Robot That Could Love


The robot that knew how to love

he knew the language of tears - joys,

believing the stories of other planets

and about the Universe being a heavy literalist

while mechanically attending the global games

different from the artificial servants of the god Hephaestus,

the only one who put on his owner's shoes,

serving at royal drunken parties

where to the mighty he was a stringed deity,

and for the subordinates a clay statue with a soul

so when human gestures were pegged

to dry until the next virtual agenda,

while their passions were out of hand,

he like an overloaded ship in the midst of a storm

rejected all artificial intelligence,

inventing a new program called – love

wanting to save the people they hate

from their unbreakable rose-tinted egos

deeply locked in their practicality

December, 2022




ANETA VELKOSKA:  MACEDONIA. Aneta Velkoska was born in 1978. She lives and works in Macedonia. Work experience: professor, TV journalist, librarian, writer. Winner of awards for poetry, prose, drama: poetry book of the year, state award for essay, best drama script of a festival, first award in the world for Esperanto culture, special award for the traveling theater "Savages", with students, awards from the area of education and science. Acts: What Annoys Eternity (2001), Are All Gods Romantic (2004), First Macedonian lexicon (2004), The second love of the stone (2009), The Giantest Dwarf and the Dwarfest Giant (2010), Bad Yin and Good Yang (2018), Endless Frame (2019). She writes drama and film scripts. She makes creations from natural materials. Likes mountaineering, photography, occult sciences. She is the author of several multicultural projects.






I can be quiet with the alabaster syllables

I can rattle the silence

or adorn the lines of destiny

with bicolored storks


I love the endless column

its cedar scents

but the knife with which I sculpt the clouds

smells white as if cutting slices

from the snow of spotted horses


when will tiny gods

truly start to balance

upon the tragedy of being an angel

for a minute as long as an eel?


I retreat among waves

and scatter storms across the humble sea

where people hear no complaints

only the slow pedaling of lives





pot să tac cu silabele de alabastru

pot să zornăi liniștea

sau să împodobesc liniile destinului

cu berze bicolore


iubesc coloana infinitului aroma

ei de cedru

dar cuțitul cu care sculptez norii

miroase alb de parcă aș tăia felii

din zăpada cailor pagi


când vor începe cu adevărat

să se balanseze dumnezei minusculi

peste catastrofa de a fi înger

un minut lung cât un țipar?


mă retrag între valuri

și întind furtuni peste marea simplă

unde oamenii nu pot auzi proteste

doar vieți pedalând


Poem With Sea


the sea is spilling young fish onto the shore

your smile is hanging in the horizon like a hairpin

where are the ice banks the hordes of lovers

the seagulls on one leg

when the ship capsizes?


your hands are scattering salt

majestic time is flowing from the green eye of the sea

I am the sand dune

against whom the sea grows restless

star with a coral mane I am

ladder against the firmament of the sky nomadic green lizard



Poem cu Mare


marea revarsă pe ţărm peştii tineri

zâmbetul tău se agaţă ca o clamă de orizont

unde sunt banchizele coloniile de îndrăgostiţi

pescăruşii într-un picior

atunci când vaporul se îneacă?


mâinile tale risipesc sare

din ochiul verde al mării curge timpul regal

sunt duna de nisip

din care creşte agitaţia mării

stea cu coamă de aramă sunt

scară pe firmamentul cerului şopârlă verde călătoare



The Ruse Of The Night


tonight sparkling quinces are moaning on the windowsill

through the skin of each star I see perennial shadows

time to harvest the wine grapes

that terrible gift of drinking must from the palms of life

as if I were or were no longer a poet

in a world of pets and ambrosia

in the funicular of death


the evening bell grazes the cathedrals

unafraid of disturbing thistles

the city centre alight with love bears fruit in genuine


heavy buds burst under the feet of the living

chanting an ave maria with their secular body

in exaltation


the grapes of autumn burst against

the great chinese wall

surrounding the aura of the cantaloupe city

its millenary thirst for young poets

the old flagstones fronting deadened statues


death’s bacchic breath strikes the imaginary gates

of my body giving birth among the chestnuts

to hours of gentle words at solstice



Trucurile Nopţii


noaptea asta gem pe pervaz gutuile spumoase

prin carnaţia fiecarei stele zăresc umbrele perpetue

ora de cules viile

harul acela teribil de a bea must din palmele vieţii

ca şi cum ai fi sau nu ai mai fi poet

peste o lume de pet-uri şi de ambrozie

în funicularul morţii


clopotul înserării paşte printre catedrale şi

nu se sfieşte să răscolească ciulini

centrul luminat de dragoste rodeşte în pomi


mugurii plini pocnesc sub paşii celor vii

care rostesc cu trupul lor laic un ave maria

pe voci înalte


strugurii toamnelor plesnesc stropind

marele zid chinezesc

ce înconjoară aura oraşului-cantalup

setea lui milenară de tineri poeţi

vechile pavele din faţa statuilor amorţite


suflul bahic al morţii izbeşte porţile imaginare

ale trupului meu ce naşte printre castane

ore de alintat vorbele la solstiţiu




ANGI CRISTEA MELANIA Born in the city of Craiova, the poetess Angi Cristea Melania teaches Romanian language and literature at the "Marin Sorescu" School of Arts. She has published several volumes of poetry: (Diz) harmony, More / Less feelings, The stones of the sun. of Pokemon, 777 of appeals, Flori de iris / Giaggioli. He has obtained numerous awards both nationally and internationally. European Poetry Award stand obtained in 2017 at the "Europoezia" International Festival (Braila) "Alfredo Pirrole" Award awarded to Trriugio, Italy at the Trriugio International Festival (2018), received Grand Prix at the Corona Internazionale Award festival (2018). She has published in numerous prestigious literary magazines and is appreciated by writers and literary critics in Romania and Italy. He received a diploma from the Romanian Embassy in Milan for special cultural merits in promoting Romanian culture in Italy and Romanian culture in Romania