21 Aug 2019

Author: Dimitar Dimitroff

Poetry

Looking Out the Window 

The world often seems like one seen through a window; the colors fade and all the images are blurry and distant. And at that time, a train carrying passengers we know or we thought we knew pass by. Presents, futures and pasts roll on. And the whistle that was strong is slowly fading away… the train leaves us alone.

Poetry

Summer Tale 

These lines will not drop the temperature nor will they blow the summer heat away. But perhaps they’ll help you sleep, dreaming of a glass of lemonade, cool breeze, soothing waves and azure horizon.

Poetry

Hearts Don’t Betray 

In the gloaming of the leaving June day, we tend to hold each other’s hands and promise and give holy words. Because it’s summer, because we are young and because the world seems ours for the taking. Everything is possible and achievable. Darkness hides away. But September comes and the rain with it… What’s a cold January night to a broken promise decaying in our heart? What’s the nipping wind of despair to a betrayal?

Poetry

Running with the Wind 

My father’s death provoked me into thinking about life and what’s after. Is there anything or just blackness awaits us? Does the rain feel as refreshing as it does on a hot summer day? Does the wind whisper in our ears the same soothing chants? I hope so, I hope so.

Translated Works

Black Song 

Dimcho Debelyanov is a genius Bulgarian poet and author. He wrote one of the most emblematic poems in Bulgarian literature. His amazing talent perished in World War I when he was just 29. Some people compare him to the greats in English literature, which is why I tried to translate one of his works into English. I hope I have managed to achieve this. Enjoy!

Poetry

The Beginning of Spring Green 

Spring has come! The season that marks the rebirth of everything – plants, trees, animals, dreams. However, I am sitting on a stump in the forest near my favorite bubbling brook, but my eyes don’t see the river bank nor my ears hear the twitter of the birds. My mind is my all senses, I am far away… away on a beach with a wistful smile.

Poetry

I Have Been Waiting 

I wrote this poem in a moment of emotional numbness and exhaustion. In a desperate attempt to recharge my battery, I spoke. I spoke to all the things that can melt away the ice; that can be my July morning in the chilly night of March. I spoke.

Poetry

Poetry Is Life 

Poetry is like bread – it needs flour and yeast. If you want to turn the words into something bigger, more palpable, divine, you need to use a special thing – emotions, real and ocean deep. This is what breathes life in a verse.