Miroslava Panayotova (Bulgaria)

Miroslava Panayotova (Bulgaria)
I graduated from Plovdiv University, specialty Bulgarian philology and English language. I have published poems, stories, tales, aphorisms, essays, criticisms, translations, articles and interviews in periodical and collections. I have published the following poetry books: Nuances, 1994, God of the senses, 2005, Pitcher, 2014, Whisper of leaves, 2017, Green feeling, 2018; two books with stories: An end, and then a beginning, 2017, Path of love, 2018; two eBooks: Laws of communicatons /aphorisms/, 2018, Old things /poetry/, 2018. I am a member of the Union of the Independent Bulgarian Writers and a member of Movimiento Poetas del mundo.
I am a member and a coordinator in the team to the e-journal Ghorsowar, too.
The familiar star face of the night
is peeking out of my window into the room.
I didn’t know the song – I learned it –
I can’t sing it.
But in the mountains is the sky,
the field also contains forests.
The day is longer than the folly,
although sometimes we think the opposite.
Two mussels scorch and burn.
Two dark mussels burn me
with the sea in them.
They burn the palm,
the eyes and the soul
and they turn me into an abyss.
In the grass of the night,
in the sleeping mystery,
in the expiring pencil
near the blue notebook
I outline the sunset
of the coming summer,
of the smoldering sweet
noon of the grass.
In the twilight of the night,
I can see the sunrise
with the smell of milk.
When a lot of time passes
the artifact shines
as if there was a lamp in it
which illuminates
the soul of man
who has passed
in the afterlife long ago
I experienced this some time ago
in the museum
considering antiques
and it was as if the sculptures were shining
from within
and the stone was glowing with eternal light
saved its author
it was only marked
the era
and maybe there was written “unknown author”
The night is in full swing.
Night of crickets.
Only the station lights up,
the village is already sleeping.
Someone said
the sky was clear and wonderful today,
showed the Milky Way
and ended up with a lie.
For a moment, I thought
that compromises also had dimensions
because we are only a little eternal.
The birds laid on the sunset.
The sun’s beam leaned
against the tree.
The roses reached the sadness
in immovable charm.
The scent of the plowed land
near the city spread.
The sun pierced the earth.
I felt its back hurt.
The doubt dig out like a warm
and crawled on the leaf,
asking me for the comfort
which I carried with my palms
and set it on the river.
The song faded under my fingers,
it peeled off my fingers
and ran down the keys.
It wrapped the floor,
put out the candle,
it lit a cigarette and handed it to me,
to tell you about it later.

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