Poems by Muesser Yeniay / Translated into Bengali by Professor Dr. Masudul Hoq

  Poems by Muesser Yeniay      —————–তুরস্কের কবিতা————–   মূল: মেসার ইয়েনিয়া রূপান্তর : মাসুদুল হক     ১.অসুস্থতা (Illness)   তুমি আমাকে এমনভাবে আঘাত কর যেন দেয়ালে ঘুষি মারছো   নারী তোমার গুহা নয় যেখানে তুমি যখনই চাইবে … Continue reading

Stoianka Boianova (Bulgaria)

Stoianka Boianova (Bulgaria)
Master’s degree in Physics. Author of twelve books: poetry, novel, collection of short stories, published in Bulgaria. Co-author of two bilingual books, poetry and haiku – in India. Included in anthologies and editions: Japan, Philippines, India, China, Vietnam, Russia, Romania, Bulgaria, Northern Macedonia, Serbia, Croatia, Poland, Germany, France, England, USA, Argentina, Nigeria, South Africa. She is in the European Top 100 of the most creative haiku authors. In the anthology of the world’s best poets, 2019, Temirqazyq, Union of Writers of World Nations, in “Songs of Peace” – World’s Biggest Poetry Anthology, 2020, Atunis Galaxy Anthology – 2020, 2021 – anthology of contemporary world poetry, “The first, second and third anthology of world gogyoshi”, in anthologies “World Haiku”. With award from “First World Poetry Competition of Newspapers and Televisions”, 2020, China. Numerous awards from global and planetary literary societies.
In editorial board of the magazine “Haiku World”, Bulgaria. Chairman of the Haiku Club – Рlovdiv, deputy chairman of Society of the Karlovo writers. In PEN Bulgaria, Union of the Bulgarian Writers, Society of the Plovdiv writers, the Bulgarian haiku Union, The Haiku Foundation – USA, United Haiku and Tanka Society – UK, the World Haiku Association, Japan, World Nations Writers’ Union.
The earth – our apple of the eye to the Universe,
and the springs are her clear tears.
The ocean – salty and the waves – majestic.
Тhe rivers are life-giving, singing, irrigating.
The wings of the eagle elevate the heights.
A meadow with wild strawberries rises in the morning.
The bitterness ripens in the quinine bark.
The nightingale’s song bends from perfection.
The Universal sorrow overwhelms the poets
to worlds touched in dreams,
where there isn’t death, betrayal and disease.
And God creates harmony and love.
“Poetry is the intellect colored by feelings.” – Alexander Wilson
The wind calls my old name –
looks for me in the vast field,
on the steep ridge of the high mountain,
on the waves of the gilded sea,
whispers in the fragrant cups of the flowers. The wind!
My senses provoke the intellect – the time is different –
I was reborn with a new pedigree.
The mountain and the sea do not know it –
they remember who I was.
Feelings color the world of perceptions
and I hear how the wind cries that it does not find me –
and I’m sad that he’s not looking for me.
I learned to communicate mentally with the universe.
I don’t write.
I don’t speak.
Of mind I tell the flower how lovely it is,
of the dewdrop how perfect it is,
of the star how far it is,
but it’s reflected in my essence.
I send signals to beings in space,
to loved ones in the afterlife,
to dad at the mountain peaks.
I talk mentally with the universe.
I wake up and tell you out loud:
“Good morning, beloved!
Let’s sing our song for God’s praise!”
My life is a journey through the roses,
from where I was before my birth –
to where I’ll be after leaving the world.
I’ll hide in the folds of the memory
the spiritual experiences, the dreams,
the views I saw somewhere –
mountain peaks under the starry sky ,
fragrant valleys with nightingales and roses,
the Divine energy that vibrates
above the roads and houses
with so beloved people.
I’ll keep their warm voices, my thoughts,
the hopes, the boundless love.
This will be my wealth, the whole,
which I’ll get from the world,
before I’ll merge with the roses.