Thursday, June 1, 2023














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JUNE 2023

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.

GORDANA KARAKASHEVSKA: In poetry I show my vulnerability and sometimes I hide it there. Through my books I talk about the tragedy of society and man as an individual. I see my work in the field of literature and literature as a quiet, solitary art. However, I categorically refuse to write or paint according to society's standards. I avoid trends, I'm almost not interested in striving to be according to society's standards. In my works, pain affects. Life is the basis of writing poetry, of art. I believe that literature is an oasis of life. Finally, through my books I deal with the fear of death.


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

GORDANA KARAKASHEVSKA: For me, poetry is the art of remembering, of memory (individual and collective). As a poet, I never leave my world of ideas and my "magic formula". For me, every poem, mine or by another author, expresses a vision of the world. This means that poetry is a synergy of time and words. My poetry is many things. Poetry is an overflow of feelings. Poetry makes me shiver. Perhaps the most significant characteristic of poetry is its inability to be defined, marked, or pinned down.


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

GORDANA KARAKASHEVSKA: I believe that peace and turmoil are equally important and complement each other. Sometimes peace is around us but unrest is inside us. And vice versa. Sometimes there is unrest around us but we have peace in our heart, soul and thoughts.


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?

GORDANA KARAKASHEVSKA: Today everything is fast and mostly disposable. The advantage of books is in their slowness and repetitiveness in reading. We live in an age of loneliness, materialism and iPhones. People of this time are not interested in the truth, and even less in love, and with that, romance. The focus is only and strictly on money. Money determines everything. I sincerely hope that after everything, I mean after the Covid-19 pandemic, the world will experience a renaissance.


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?

GORDANA KARAKASHEVSKA:  I like quality literature, to create such is very difficult. The book should be original. Freedom exists in the writer's head just as art exists, and literature is a part of art. Since the beginning of this year I started working on books for children, which I also plan to draw illustrations. The illustrations in my books are the culture. These are large and complex projects that, above all, take a lot of time. However, what is important is what remains afterwards.

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?

GORDANA KARAKASHEVSKA: I believe that every writer is a product of several factors: education, talent, nationality and history, the opportunities available in the country in which they create, the environment, the time and place in which they write, and their own ambitions.

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?

GORDANA KARAKASHEVSKA: Literature stands as a bridge between tradition and modernism. Without tradition we would not know who we are and without modernism it is impossible to know where we are going and what we are striving for. Back in time, throughout history, tradition was a great inspiration for many artists who drew ideas for new works from there. For example, it is almost impossible to write a book without writing something about the characters' past.


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?

GORDANA KARAKASHEVSKA: Literary critics are in charge of carefully reading new literary publications, analyzing and evaluating their content, their linguistic and stylistic aspects, and the way in which the contents of the works are presented. Therefore, they must make clear and precise criticisms. Literary criticism tries to guide readers, therefore, objectivity must prevail in order to present a balanced review of a work, because, from this, the reader can have a general idea of what can be found in the book, what is the style of the author and if it is of your interest. It is so in theory, but in practice literary criticism (here, in Macedonia) does not have a great influence in the development of the poet or poetess and the understanding of his or her poetry. Unfortunately, we are witnessing a biased forcing of certain names that, although untalented, with family and friendly connections manage to impose themselves. However, time is the best judge. Time is a filter. Quality will filter through it at the expense of quantity.


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

GORDANA KARAKASHEVSKA: I would say that the family, the environment in which I grew up and the way I was brought up were decisive factors in the formation and building of me as a person, character and author.


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?

GORDANA KARAKASHEVSKA: Each time has its own beauty and advantages. No matter how fast technological and industrial development is, there will always be people who will write books and people who will read books. Not even artificial intelligence will be able to replace writers any more than photography has replaced painters. Personally, I would never want to read a book written by artificial intelligence because I know that there are no real emotions and feelings in that work. Maybe I would be curious and read, but nothing more than that.


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

GORDANA KARAKASHEVSKA: When I was in school it was the poetry of Blaze Koneski, Ante Popovski, Aco Shopov, Guillaume Apollinaire, Arthur Rimbaud, Marina Tsvetaeva, Ana Ahmatova, Rabindranath Tagore, John Keats, Emily Dickinson and Sylvia Plath. Later I fell in love with Francis Scott Fitzgerald, Virginia Woolf, Jerome D. Salinger, Franz Kafka and James Joyce. Nowadays, I read Wislawa Szymborska, Elfriede Jelinek, Haruki Murakami, Margaret Atwood, and Erika Jong.


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

GORDANA KARAKASHEVSKA: I live in a time when the Macedonian language and nation are denied, attacked and belittled, that's why I look forward to every newly published book in Macedonia and abroad, and the younger generations got all my support.


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?

GORDANA KARAKASHEVSKA: It's hard to be optimistic in this world. It is almost impossible. I do not foresee anything good for humanity in the long term. IF we evolve into conscientious human beings, then perhaps there is hope for survival.


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

GORDANA KARAKASHEVSKA: Literature serves as a bridge for the communication of knowledge, customs and culture of nations. the role the author takes in writing a work and his responsibility to his readers and the story is great. It must be understood that every literary work has a message that will affect those who read it, for better or for worse. Herein lies the importance of the commitment the writer undertakes in its creation. The language we use every day to exchange information has a communicative function. When the language is raised to a different, aesthetic level, then it has a poetic (aesthetic) function. The beauty of linguistic expression is the goal of literature. And in literature we get information, but they are not ordinary, everyday, but have an aesthetic function. Literature is an art whose means of expression is the word. Artistic literature vividly represents life and the world.


GORDANA KARAKASHEVSKA: Gordana Karakashevska is a poet, writer, essayist and translator. She is the author of the novel "Undressing", the book of short stories "Signor Giordano and..." and the books of poetry "The Broken Poet and Other Poems" and "House of Paper". This year (2023), her fifth book and third collection of poems, "The Path of Water", is going to be published. Her great passion is painting. Photography is her hobby.






Shi enters in the eyes

In January she dances on your forehead

Shi descends to the chin

Makes a nest in the heart

Shi swims in the blood

Shi smells through the pores

In August, the sun shines on the abdomen

To keep your feet warm in December

And so on

Shi wastes the seasons

Until the last July when

Shi breaks your heart.

What else can be said?





I walk fast in the dark

I cut the cold air

and I imagine your warm breath…


the streets in front of me

becomes a story

in which we hold our hands…


I am the one

you have been waiting for

your whole life

I smile,

I turn into a whispers 

who becomes a song.



Dedicated to Sylvia Plat


The lady comes out of her glass bell

to stretch her legs,

To put the potatoes to boil

for those two hungry mouths

to talk to the bees

to greet death

Shi is always here,

sitting in her place next to the door.


The typewriter is silent

The clean lines of the dresses fall

Here she is, trying to recognize her father

- Life is dying, don't you see?

Do not you hear the voice of Ariel who has become an echo,

an echo that fills time?


The lady enter in her glass bell

To turning on the gas

To close the door tightly

To singing to a death

To say goodbye to winter

To welcoming an eternity

To put her head in the oven.


* Ariel is a masculine name meaning "lion of God" in Biblical Hebrew.




GORDANA KARAKASHEVSKA: Poet, essayist, writer, artist, photographer was born on January 31, 1973 in Pehchevo, Macedonia. She attends primary school in Pehchevo and high school in Skopje in EPU Boris Kiddrich. Since then, she has lived, worked and created in Skopje with the exception of a few years of her life when she lived and worked in Turin, Italy and they will leave a deep mark on her as a creative person and artist. She deals with art and in her free time with photography. She has been writing since she was thirteen years old, when she actively participated in regional competitions in art and literary works. For her, writing is a way of life and art is a universal language. She writes poems and short stories, both in Macedonian. Italian, Serbian and in English. Her poems have been translated into other languages and published in domestic and international online groups, magazines as well as anthologies. Book of short stories "Signor Giordano and the thoughts about ...; A book of poetry "Broken Poet and Other Poems" and a novel "Nudity" came out in April / May 2021. Her new book "House of Paper" was published in April 2022 and its promotion is scheduled for May 12.  She is currently working on her second novel with the working title "The City, the River and the Lake" and hopes that she will be able to publish her books of poetry and short stories next year. She has had several joint and several solo art exhibitions in Turin, Italy and in her hometown.     In her free time she is engaged in photography, visiting exhibitions in galleries, museums and other cultural events, theater, cinema, opera and ballet, in a word she lives for art and art in all its forms.



While Hearts Are Beating


 While they shoot at each other,

 their hearts still beat,

 regardless of thoughts without tears,

 all kinds of ideas, only fears,

 with the only goal, to hit!


But hearts do not think,

do not guess, rather,

they know very well

and they have power,

while they hold the key to life,

they also connect

with other hearts,

wherever they are

and whichever side they are on...


They beat,

and we are not interested in that magic,


it's how we were taught,

that it's just an organ,

but not the lighthouse

and the only one

navigator through life,

which we must follow,

and without it, we are lost

in the middle of the unknown sea...


In the duality of separation,

through the prism of subjectivity,

for us are visible and separated,

only: "They", "We",

and in the middle of everything,

our lost and vulnerable "I"!


While hearts are beating,

they are still shooting and hitting...


all until


hearts are beating...

©® Zlatan Demirović-USA


Universal Chords


In plural being, all exudes peace and harmony.

In accordance with unstable

and stable currents,

which flow through waterfalls

of infinite dimensions

in the final calm of resolved tensions.


No tension, or longing for


no resolution is created,

with intention and with the goal

of returning to the peace of prosperity.


The stone of existential stumbling blocks,

through magical sound

unresolved chords,

full of creative potential

plunges through whirlpools and geysers

lakes of timeless stability

and final relaxation Wednesday

bringing the road to an end.


The universal mind composes that symphony!

Decreased chords, raises, and downs,

are planetary systems, which tend to

towards unification into galaxies.

Sad vibrations of nostalgic moles

bear the shadow of the unfulfilled,

sometimes neglected scores,

interplanetary bridges of minor tonic

full of aspirations for the expansion of the chromatics of joy.


In the record of that Great Work,

everything gravitates towards a safe path

dominant chords.

But there is no smoke and mays,

which, as if calling for action

universal full consciousness,

which carelessly hovers in an endless whirlwind

microparticles of stardust.


And all that until the final crescendo

and explosions of the universal core

with the birth of new stars

in the dominant-winning major ...



I would have to tell you everything again,

But, by some miracle,

I always run out of words ...

©® Zlatan Demirović


Is It The End


Is this the end or just a beginning?

The moss of civilization,

god like creation, spicily conducted by Lucifer’s baton,

spills the green landscape of speck dust, blue ball.


“Why we must die,”

a philosopher asked his audience at the funeral.

Without dying, the Universe will be just a museum,

replied the Nowhere, crying for the wounded bird

fluttering its wings in the middle of the road.


Why should we live such a short life,

obese man just asked, sunk into his comfort.

The journey of experience is endless and reversible,

screamed the raven from the gravedigger’s shoulder.


Whatever else it comes from this frontal-lobe.

thinking brain today,

I would say,

I really love these flashy broken mornings-

interwoven with the endless ocean breathing...

©® Zlatan Demirović




ZLATAN DEMIROVIĆ: Bilingual book writer, novelist, critic, internationally acknowledged poet, and trilingual translator (English, Czech, Bosnian-Croatian-Serbin languages). * The founder of PRODIGY LIFE ACADEMY and author of the PRODIGY LIFE PROGRAM, which serves as a platform for spiritual and personal development. * Founder and Editor in Chief of PRODIGY PUBLISHED-USA. * Founder and Editor of PRODIGY MAGAZINE-USA. Translated into: Italian, French, Spanish, Portuguese, German, Swedish, Greek, Turkish, Chinese, Russian, Japanese, Hindu, Bengal, BCS (Bosnian, Croatian, Serbian), Albanian, Dutch, Hausa Nigerian, Arabic, Aleut (Alaska), Pakistan, Bahasa-Indonesia, Kurdish, Persian, Azerbaijan, Tajik, Bulgarian, Romanian, Hebrew, Punjabi, Slovenian, Czech, Slovak, Tamil, Uzbek, Kyrgyz, Nepali, Assam, and more, on the way.





Oh, my friend,

To be honest, I cannot understand you.

We talk to each other in different languages.

You are always saying something I don’t know

And I always answer: “We are colleagues!”


Oh, my friend,

Race and language do not matter for us

Even social status is not important.

I know that you are also proud with me,

You recite poems of Mashrab by heart.


I read works of Goethe for you,

Verses by Pushkin always make us cry.

Dumbadze, O Henry, and Makhtumkuli…

I recite ghazels of Navoi so high.


Staring with astonishment in your picture,

Even though you do not know who I am,

You follow my words only with silence

And you pray God to ask for a safe world.


Either in Azeri, either in Turkish

Or in English language you send your hello.

Oh, my friend,

I thank you bending my stubborn head down

In the destinations of our pure love.


We have the same goal and the same dream,

We are on the way for the same destination.

We both are sharing the same world to live

Saving this world is our ambition.


Oh, my friend,

May we be always proud,

I hope our children will follow our path.

We have pure dream and greatest goal

Because we possess the greatest heart.


Oh, my friend,

I thank you bending my head down…


Episodes Of Night


Grasshoppers chirp with a loud voice

As if Tashkent is being boiled in bowl.

There, far away, with seductive look

Some prostitutes are smoking cigarette.


Cars are flooding in the magistral

They pause a little without any aim.

From Nexia up to Nissan you may see

Smoke of cigarette is swallowed by fate.


Returning from work, hurrying to home

People are on the road whose shoulders in pain.

They think about sorrows and life problems

However, all their thinking is in vain.


Somewhere an infant is crying nonstop

Maybe he was also abandoned by someone.

Maybe his mother now holding a cup of wine

Sharing her kisses to another man.


Someone is crying and praying for God

Hoping that Almighty will hear his words.

Maybe it is the very day written by his fate

In which all his sins will be forgiven.


Something broke down accidentally

The life of complaint came to its end.

Night, why your embrace is full of sadness?

I thank God that I have reached the dawn.





You may rain,

Wash this dirty world,

Wash the street of hatred,

Street of envy,

And the evil of our souls.

You may rain,

Let the earth be clear,

Let the tulips blossom in the embrace of hatred,

Never let children to cry in pain,

And wash the hands of ugliness,

Wash the throat of those whose tongue is poisonous,


Expel the odds to the middle of nowhere,

So that they understand who they are.

May the world be beautiful,

May it be full of fragrance.

May stars never fade in the sky,


Come with hope in every drop,

Actually, peace is the greatest joy.


Oh, my rain,

Rain nonstop.




Never ask me, please, who am I myself

Myself is a couple of verses on paper.

My self will save myself, and I hope

For those who left me it is bad news.

Myself is different, differs from me,

Far away from those who are so selfish,

May myself is not visible for everyone,

But myself will never abandon myself.

One day I will go shaking my hand to all,

From the arenas which disappointed me.

I will tear the dress of arrogance myself

Then I will throw it from mountain.

A moment, only a moment is enough

When myself starts a rebel inside me.

I do not wait for a clap from hands,

For me being myself is the greatest honor.

I am never afraid of foxes, no, no,

Even any jury cannot threaten me.

I am so proud of being myself,

I am thankful of God for being me.

Never ask me, please, who am I,

Rather read my poems, read my verses.




One day I lose my life, it is clear

One day I will return to the Creator.

And all my collected pains and sorrows

I will only retell to my only God.

One day my body will disappear,

Maybe I will be reborn as a basil.

Being happy from my death

One day my haters will have a party.

Passing through alley with silence

I hear all the gossips they tell.

Now my poems will become orphan,

Now I only live in my poems.

But the world remains the same,

Thousand years again it stays still.

All the lies, all the fake faces,

And ignorance in the gene.

All the lips whisper one by one,

Thanks God, I am far away.

Blind souls never recover,

I am not related to earth any more.

The only thing tortures me is

My days that I spent aimless.

And incomplete writings of mine,

My voice that paused on my throat as well.

One day I lose my life, it is clear

One day I will return to the Creator.

Asking God to revive inside of me

I will utter the name of my elder son.




SHARIPOVA ZUHRO SUNNATOVNA (Zahro Shamsiyya) She was born on April 9, 1969 in the Nurata district of the Navoi region. Her first poem was published in 1985 by Yilda "Gülhan" a journalist. Uzbek publications published works in the journal "Sharq Yulduzi", in the literature and art of Uzbekistan, in the newspaper "Uzbekistan capital va sanat" "Kitob dunyosi" - "Ma'rifat", turli viloyat va regional newspapers. World Albums in Canada, -2017 in Dubai WBA 2018 "Turkish poets of the world" (Buta 3) (Buta 5) 2019, "Muhammad Yusuf izdoshlari" 2017 albummax. She published her book "Ismsiz tuigular"



Singing For The Earth


To sing for you,

is like asking a child to sing to his dying mother

...for his hometown, his identity...

We humans used you and abused you.


We, the army of salvation.

We, the army of destruction.

We eat you inside out.

We, the ever hungry for more

always thirsty for victory.

against all odds


with fertilizers and sprays...

chasing you away

away from the paths of nature

they chase after your creatures and your legends.

Your melodies are lost in the veins of progress.

We conquered the earth first.

then the water, now the air. 

We carved our names in the age of stone.

But we have lost simplicity.

And we don't want to find our way back.

To make peace with you.


To sing for you

To sing with you

It means we know that eternity

survives without us.


Eternal Reminder


With the Perfection the sky joins the sea

the signs of Mörike's blue ribbon in the air,

the light of Odysseus Elytis, the peace of Pablo Neruda...

Among blossoming peach and cherry trees wandering speechless


On the mountain tops

with a wild wish of youth in the mind

with a wild herb in the hand

looking down to the hills of nature’s passion


in breathless excitement


on the pebble beaches with open arms

embracing the width of the horizon

open borders between countries and continents

overwhelmed by the blossoming breeze

with a poem on the lips, memories in the eyes, marks on the soul


spring is preserved in the hearts

through all seasons

throughout the years and decades

Throughout all our life

spring remains

eternal reminder of unstoppable hope


Digital Reality


I look into my sustainable development

As I decay in the lock down...


The nature and my nature


And replaced

With green technology


I have reduced my raw material requirements

I no longer send things or touch anything

And no one.

I live with the promise of longevity

But with the necessary protection

Of personal responsibility.

I pop in to digital presentations

And salon talks from my living room...


I am absent at weddings, baptisms and funerals

...Always in compliance with legal requirements...

I do not provide assistance,

Because the needy kill the helpers.


I do not move

I am stuck on a hyphen

Between immunity and health.


On my short commutes

for personal exercises

I exist as an interested customer

As a representative number

Of political editors

As an uncertainty

In a digital future...




XANTHI HONDROU-HILL: Xanthi Hondrou-Hill has studied German and English Literature, Linguistics, Journalism and Public Relations Management in Germany. She has worked as Public Relations Manager at the Greek Consulate in Stuttgart, as teacher for German, Greek and English and is translating poetry from and to all three languages. She is an award-winning Greek poetess who gained international recognition. She is writing poetry since high school and her poems have been published in many international prestigious media and anthologies around the world. She has won in 2022 the first prize at the Gandhian Global Harmony Association and many awards in China, Ukraine, Philippines and Equator. She has been nominated as one of the 30 Stars worldwide in India. She is cultural Ambassador for OXYGEN PEN Sri Lanka, NAMASTE magazine in India and editor for poetry columns at in Greece and HUMANITY in Russia, as well as co-editor for the international poetry magazine in China. Selections of her poetry have been translated into Arabic, Chinese, French, German, Greek, Italian, Portuguese, Russian, Spanish, Slavic as well as in two Languages of India: Hindi and Bengali.







whistling the melodies of the wind rose

in the heart of the northern city,

following the faded footprints of those

who passed that way before you were blamed guilty,

just walk – seeking for His justice and will

between silent stones and yellow mud,

just move – until the sharpest blade of thrill

is showing them your way by the line of blood.

don’t catch the cold flames of their fire,

it’s your route, you don’t really need 'em.

He’ll be there – at the point of your entire






Over. No hugs. No kisses.

Nothing about love.

Where are the precious feelings

sent from the high above?


Where are the days I treasured

when each of them was new?

Where are the nights I measured

only by loving you?


Being in love and honest,

haven’t I suffered yet?

Wish I can be the strongest

woman you’ve ever met.





She is thinking of you. She is starting each day by the picture

of your beautiful face, of your thoughtful and caring eyes.

She is thinking of how you are carefully teaching a teacher,

how you’re calling her ‘sunshine’… And, honestly, no one denies

that she’s worth it. And feeling your everyday patience and care

she just couldn’t ignore it. It’s been so fantastic and new

that she’s started to feel – she can fly, she can go anywhere

being all by herself, being happy… and thinking of you.     




VICTORIA SOKOLOVSKAYA: Born in Polotsk, Belarus. Started writing poetry at 16. The author of 3 books of poetry: “The Lady-Bird” (2005), “My Poems” (2010), “Egyptian Notebook” (2019). Laureate of the World Literary and Poetry Competition “The Golden Lyre of Hope” from the First Literary Museum of A.S. Pushkin in the USA (New York, 2003). II degree Laureate of the International Literary Contest dedicated to Agniya Barto’s 115th Anniversary (Sydney, Australia, 2021).