OSOGOVIANS -

 

sons of the wind  

 

women... 

 

              scattered 

        

                           butterflies...

 

They say laughter can open

All doors

And cure

All maladies

It makes life longer

And rejuvenates spirit,

Bringing to all of us serenity, happiness...

Yet there is laughter

And smiles so different:

Open

Or hidden

Or completely indifferent.

There are smiles

Beamed at you tactfully

And untactful smiles which remain unpunished

There are smiles nearly saved

Or given to you in doubt.

There are smiles bitter in nature

Smiles which are playful

Smiles superior                         

Smiles artistic

Cruel

Nearly threatening

Savere

Cunning...

 

And tempting...

 

Smiles.

 

My love is early morning dew

For your thirsty breast.

A wealthy gift

Was given us

By your bed.

A sought confession

Your touch.

A burning fire in my heart

Is your desire.

 

Your voice is like

A bird’s song in the night.

Our dawn

A chime.

After wedding feasts

Amidst a happy tiredness

Our beauty dream

 

Bright Mood

 

From the warmth of the Sun’s rays

From the gust of southern breezes

The earth again is quickened

To give rebirth to life.

 

My love is lurking in my thoughts

Absorbing light from youth...

 

To spring’s quickening power

 

My Tender Spring of Kyustendil

 

Your first steps you make today

Gazing into my eyes;

So small you are

And so powerful.

Discovering space and time

Your smile is a rainbow of joy,

Lighted by your first victory.

Your eyes reflect not stars,

But tomorrow’s dawn.

 

I measure time by the hesitating steps

Of your little running feet,

And my heart gives a leap:

Have you grown up? Are you already grown?

Sun and wind,

Songs and flowers

Blend in your inner universe

So bright and innocent.

And I find my life’s sense in it..

 

And that of my entire world. The present world

So dreadful and so lovely!

Are you  make it happier?

Try to give it some of your warmth

And love it...

Then, probably,

A captive of your love, the world

Will finally forget about wars...

At dawn flapping wings will wake it up,

At nigth it will go back to sleep

 

With peaceful mind...

For Your birthday

 

Sun and breeze,

Bright and clear,

Full of songs,

And flying up

On a morning of July,

People, birds and Trembling lashes

Of the children’s eyes, impetused to the sky.

Human words

 like Tender music,

or disastrous hurricane

Rice to flight

In mad intention

To embrace the

sunny world.

On a bight and

Clear morning

In the beauty of July

You were born

 To make it magic

 

For Your Birthday

 

Sun and breeze,

Bright and clear,

Full of songs,

And flying up

On a morning of

July,

People, birds and

Trembling lashes

Of the children’s

Eyes, impetused to the sky.

Human words

Like

Tender music,

Or disastrous

Hurricane

Rise to flight

In mad intention

To embrace thr

Sunny world.

On a brigjt and

Clear morning

In the beauty of July

You were born

To make it magic

My beloved son.

 

Autumn

 

The last breath of summer. It only remains

To satisfy our dreams of beauty

To give a rest to our eyes,

A free space to our thoughts,

And wings to our wisdom.

 

My soul is drinking from the autumn colours;

I’m touching to eternity and peace;

The rebel in my heart is brought to calmness

And every feeling is sadly burning down...

 

Now I am contemplating all the fruit

Of my hands and mind, and of my heart;

I’m weighing past joy and old grief,

Dreams come-true and truths forever.

 

Our last refuge from outrageous passions

 

Autumn Dreams

I am gathering a handful of autumn leaves

And my tired eyes find rest

In the colours hotter than red coals

And the smell of earth and moist.

 

I am  gathering the amber bead string

Of my emotions, thoughts, and dreams.

They look alike the long row of my days

Both my good ones, and those of my sadness.

 

I’m gathering a handful of autumn dreams

And my hands still remain empty.

At every sigh of breeze they move

 

Winter

 

In fuss, unseen, summer passed,

In dreams melted autumn;

Winter’s ruling whiteness paints

Trees, homes, and hearts ahd souls.

My mind is morning for the beauty

The snow has hidden from my sight.

Yet, coming on the wings of childhood

Kind memories turn cold to fire.

 

The sun is melting lollipop amidst the fog,

The bright snow-drifts are like the sea.

The wet foot doesn’t matter

As long as plays made me feel well.

 

Now, I am no longer in a hurry

To seek caresses in the morning snow,

But all day long I bear hatred

And gaze at it with frozen soul.

 

But, secretly my eyes slide back to look for

Weep, laughter and upset sleigh boards.

My strong desire is through my belief in Christmas

 

The Ancient Icon

 

Veils of silence;

My soul is weaving

Quiet memories

From strings of sadness.

 

The sleeplees moon

And the autumn hide

Memories like graves,

Last touch of kindness.

 

Pain, tranquility...

The lonely soul

From the ancient icon

Is beggining for warmth.