MINTHA BÉKE LENNE

Mintha béke lenne a teraszokon 

és a szántóföldeken, a hegyek mérgezett

hordókkal teli gyomrában, a csapos

lelkében, mintha béke lenne a lövészárkokban.

Szól a smooth jazz, gerjed a test, emlékezik.

Narrál. Felejt és fölülír.

Látja a csatornát. 

Látja a bugyrokat.

Szeretni szeretne. 

Vezekelni. 

De nem ér össze a fény. 

És egy csomóban minden fájás. 

AS IF THERE WERE PEACE

(Mintha béke lenne)

As if there were peace on the terraces

and the ploughland, in the bellies of the

mountains filled with poisoned barrels,

in the soul of the tapman, as if there were

peace in the trenches. There’s smooth jazz

playing, the body is roused, it remembers.

It narrates. Forgets and overrides.

It sees the channel.

Sees the bolgia.

Wants to love.

To atone.

But the light isn’t joining up.

And all the pain is one big knot.

© Translated from the Hungarian by Anna Bentley

COME SE CI FOSSE LA PACE

(Mintha béke lenne)

Come se ci fosse la pace sulle terrazze

e sui campi, nello stomaco pieno di botti avvelenate

delle montagne, nell’anima dell’oste,

come se ci fosse la pace nelle trincee.

Si sente lo smooth jazz, il corpo si accende, ricorda.

Narra. Dimentica e sovrascrive.

Vede il canale.

Vede le bolge.

Vorrebbe amare.

Scontare.

Ma la luce non si congiunge.

E tutto il dolore in un nodo.

© Traduzione di Györgyi Gyetvai e Gianmaria D. Eletto

Sándor Halmosi, Hungary

#dylanday

Sándor Halmosi. Hungarian poet, literary translator, editor and mathematician, coordinator of the World Poetry Movement Hungary. He attaches importance to promoting poetry and cultural dialogue, as well as the interconnection of literature and fine arts. In February 2020 he published a literary manifesto , with the title Ora et labora. Crying-out for Pure Literature. This is an attempt to shine a light on the spiritual crisis of the world, through an authentic poetic stance and the responsibility of the literates – independent of their respective countries, linguistic and social characteristics. He published about 40 volumes in Hungarian and other languages.

My Children’s Dreams

My son says: I like the graceful deer.

I tell him: When you grow up, one of them will charm you,

And I would have you marry her.

Here he is, dancing with joy and humming a song:

When I grow up, my father would have me marry

A graceful deer, and I will love her,

I will love her my entire life.

My daughter says: I like the wobbling swans in the lake!

I tell her: When you grow up, I will buy you a white dress

And send you with the swans to the other side of the bank.

You will find a handsome groom waiting for you there.

Here she is, dancing with joy and humming a song:

When I grow up, my father will buy me a white dress.

I will be a swan, and I will find my groom

On the other side of the bank.

Definitely, I will find him,

And I will love him my entire life.

Hussein Habasch, Kurdistan/Germany

#dylanday

Hussein Habasch is a poet from Afrin, Kurdistan. He currently lives in Bonn, Germany.
Born in 1970 in Şiyê Village. His poems have been translated into many languages and he has had his poetry published in more than 100 anthologies. He participated in many international festivals of poetry in Europe, Northern, Central, Southern America, Asia, Africa.  Recipient of the Great Kurdish Poet Hamid Bedirkhan Award, awarded by the General Union of Kurdish Writers and Journalists. As well as the International “Bosnian Stećak” award for Poetry, awarded by the Bosnia and Herzegovina Writers Union. Bronze poetry award Aristotle from Naoussa international poetry festival in Greece.

Flying Home

In the midst of dreams

over waves of blue black clouds

on the horizon

a fire-orange line

the sky lightens

clouds whip themselves tightly

as they transform to white

and through these, like lava,

sparkles of sun

even before it’s visible,

molten gold now,

risen, a day begun,

below an ocean

from the airplane

carrying me home

Helen Bar-Lev, Israel

#dylanday

Helen Bar-Lev, artist, poet www.helenbarlev.com

Former Assistant President, Chief Anthology Editor, Secretary, Overseas Coordinator, Voices Israel Group of Poets in English  www.voicesisrael.com

International Senior Poet Laureate, Amy Kitchener Foundation

Israeli representative, Immagine& Poesia https://immaginepoesia.jimdo.com/

Recipient Homer European Medal for Poetry and Art 

Night Fox

The city is yours now –

The beery-breathed and bleary-eyed,

Long since fled to their beds on tottering hills,

Through pock-marked streets,

Leaving behind the detritus of days.

And you – did I dream you?

Shrugging your slippered form through the streets –

Fox of my sleep, perfectly possessing the night.

In streetlamps’ glamour, you lengthen,

Become one with the city – own it and are it,

Containing within yourself every drunken conversation,

Each ghosted desire; and now, as all within the city dies,

Now is your time to come alive.

Gently pad your silent tread,

Nosing your way into bins of leftover lives,

Plate-scrapings of dreams,

The jagged edges, drained dregs and fag-ends,

Wrinkled receipts, stamped stubs, spent lottery tickets,

All the numbers that never quite added up.

But you – you are not fussy, but feast on scraps

and gnaw upon the bones of our ambition.

Night fox, who knows better than anyone

How it feels to be hunted and how to become invisible.

Crouched at the corners of vision, a trick of shadow –

There, but not there – And so you are everything we fear,

For we fear, most of all, becoming invisible.

Night Fox, the streets are yours now,

The moon is full of itself,

And you and I, the last things alive

beneath the tombed sky. 

Rebecca Lowe, Wales-UK

#dylanday

Rebecca Lowe is a poet, editor and organiser of spoken word events based in Swansea, Wales, UK. She lives just around the corner from Cwmdonkin Drive, Dylan’s childhood home. She has two poetry collections, ‘Blood and Water’ (publ. The Seventh Quarry, 2021) and Our Father Eclipse (publ. Culture Matters, 2022). On Instagram she is beckylowepoet. Some of her poems can be found on YouTube under Becky Lowe Swansea. 

IN THE CRACK OF THE DREAM

After the neighbors turn off the air conditioner

its sound remains

as an eaves of the balcony

and continues to shake

the chills of falling asleep.

The duplicated hours

of the confused minutes

and the stunned seconds

hit the electrons

compacted in the slit of the dream

and thunder in the cracked orbit

of the storm atom.

The severity of tonight's stress

equals with the nucleus mass

of the disturbed sphere

that hangs like an earring

on the threshold of the ear.

 Vesna Mundishevska-Veljanovska, Republic of North Macesonia

#dylanday

Vesna Mundishevska-Veljanovska (1973, Bitola) is a member of the Macedonian Writers' Association and Macedonian Sciencе Society – Bitola. Author of 18 poetry and critical-essays books. Editor of many journals and books. Translated into various languages.

ETERNAL DREAM


Where are we now?
In this universe as a vast bowl
Our first dream takes place
Starting with birth,
a zero point from which the progress
of our existence can be charted
full of eagerness and willingness
And we call this as life

Here, in the wonderland
In a night or in a day
We weave hopes to make them real
Into a broad rug for a long sienna dreams

We are here now, counting days
In a dream within a dream
Slumbering for rebirth
For a real blissful life in eternal dream.

 Ewith Bahar, Indonesia

#dylanday

Indonesian poet Ewith Bahar has published eleven books. Hundreds of her poems were published in many newspapers and online medias, home and abroad, and have been translated into English, Spanish, Indian, Nepali, Bengali, Serbian, Armenian, Uzbek, Tajik, Chinese, French, Italian, Arabian,  Catalan, Macedonian and Korean.   

Wake to a Dream - a song/poem

Be a dream and wake to find out who you are

Be the night and let your thoughts be stars

Be a mountain stream and feel what it is to fall

Be the sea know what it’s like to have it all

Be the never ending sky be free

if it takes 100 years just dare to be

All a poet wants is for her words to fall in love

As they tumble from her lips onto the page

That you have opened just by chance

And there they’ll dance

Until the book is closed

And in the darkness they’ll be still

And quiet as a stone

Like figures from a fairytale waiting for the Princess

To wake

And maybe it will be 100 years before you open up that page

Before the kiss of your eyes brings those words to life

But still they’ll dance

Exactly as they were

With one added essence of a dream

That’s all a poet wants …

Be a river feel the stillness moving in you

Be a bird and be the one that flew

Be a tree and touch the heavens every night

Be the dawn and find yourself filled up with light

Be the never ending sky be free

If it takes 100 years just dare to be

Come la vita

Attraversata da un fiume

fatto da tempo e acqua

e ricordare che dentro me

scorre un altro fiume,

fatto di un altro tempo.

Sapere che perdo il tempo 

in quest'altro fiume 

dove i volti passano come l'acqua.

Acqua e fiume sono nel tempo

di un fluire fatto di sogno.

Dentro il sogno credo di non sognare

e che l'assenza che teme la mente

sia quell'assenza di ogni notte

seminata da occhi e di stelle immaginarie

che danno un altro finale al film

che usa il linguaggio della notte

per comunicare che la realtà non sta

in un solo sogno ma in tanti sogni

che spesso non hanno nessuna logica

come la vita.

____

Tra alcol e versi

(Dedicata a Dylan Thomas)

Braccia che scivolano dal corpo,

tintinnio, cadono le dita a terra.

La sedia più non sostiene 

la forma del corpo.

Gioventù intrisa di alcol, esposta 

a tante altre morti.

Fuori di sé 

volti, immagini confuse, lirica estrema,

metafisica simbolica che esce 

dallo sguardo,

voci che masticano la propria lingua.

Il poeta vede fantasmi,

caricature di volti ferme 

negli occhi di pesce, congelati.

I suoi sogni trafficati,

feriti, incidentati

si affogano in una bottiglia.

La mente però bisbiglia,

deve scrivere, lui è un poeta!

Il poeta recupera il braccio

alimentato da arterie pesanti,

prende dei fogli poco distanti

per vomitare versi tremolanti.

Dalla penna escono istanti,

simboli pescati 

da un tragico scenario.

Il poeta cade a terra,

si chiude il sipario.

Yuleisy Cruz Lezcano, Cuba/Italia

#dylanday

Yuleisy Cruz Lezcano, scrittrice, poetessa, scultrice, fotografa.

Nata a Cuba , vive a Marzabotto (Bo). In Italia dall’età di 18 anni, ha studiato all’Università di Bologna laureandosi in “Scienze infermieristiche e ostetricia” ed in “Scienze biologiche”. Svolge attività lavorativa nella sanità pubblica.

Nel tempo libero ama dedicarsi alla scrittura di poesie e racconti, alla pittura, alla scultura e alla fotografia.

Numerosi sono i concorsi letterari a cui ha partecipato, ottenendo premi, riconoscimenti e apprezzamenti dalla critica. Ha al suo attivo numerose pubblicazioni. La sua poetica trae ispirazione sia dalla letteratura Europea (Rimbaud, Baudelaire, H. Hesse, F. Pessoa, G. D’Annunzio, E. Montale, G. Gozzano, P. Salinas …) sia da quella dei poeti americani e latino-americani (Edgar Lee, Walt Whitman, Rubèn Darìo, Julio Cortàzar, Alejandra Pizarnik …) http://www.yuleisycruz.com/

HARVEST 

They are bright lights 

in a dark night

Singing the song of a red dawn

At times of despair

They know how to inspire hope in our heart

With those departed 

and left behind

We are reborn 

with renewed hope

Still my world bleeds with pain

A blunt knife stuck in her heart

Her people devoid of hope

And anxious

Let the fears and pain 

stay in the past

Let’s plant the seeds 

of peace and love

On beleaguered to our world.

Time for harvesting will arrive, 

I know

Let’s add our hopes to the half realised hopes of those

departed.

See me, yourself and my beautiful our world in that harvest.

Aycan Saraçoğlu, Cyprus/UK

#dylanday

Aycan Saraçoğlu was born 1963 in Cyprus. She immigrated to United Kingdom in 1999. Aycan’s poems reflects her way of life and hopes. Therefore her poetry voice friendship, struggle for freedom, peace and love.

“Field of Dreams”

you always seem to utterly amaze me

these nostalgic sanctuaries you bring me into a sublime revelrie

each time I close my eyes my soul starts to wander,

in faraway places I've never seen, can't seem to remember.

these field of dreams each night takes me to a different life

you hold my hand as we step into a magical world

enchanting palaces, at times I feel I'm reincarnated,

in this maze of majesties I'm left fascinated.

my spirit travels to a Kingdom I've never seen

standing in the middle of the ocean with a mystical stream

beneath a clear blue sky a mighty seagull flies,

seeking for a lost damsel within it lies.

if only I could just stay in this forbidden dimension

i will be living forever in such joyous stead

instead of always burdened with consternation,

in this mythical field of dreams, I will enjoy my eternal bliss!

Elizabeth Esguerra Castillo, Philippines

#dylanday

Elizabeth Esguerra Castillo is a multi-awarded International Author, Poet, and Visual Artist from the

Philippines. She has 2 published books, “Seasons of Emotions” and “Inner Reflections of the Muse” and

a co-author to more than 200 international anthologies. Her written works and artworks have graced

numerous international literary platforms and art exhibitions.

RÜYA 

Denizin kıyısında 

Bahçenin içinde 

Uzakta bir ağaç görünüyordu 

Yemyeşil 

Kuşlar yuva yapmıştı 

Denizin dalga sesleri duyuluyordu

Ağacın dalları sallanıyordu rüzgardan

Bazen de rüzgar duruyordu

Uykuda gibiydi rüzgar

Sessizlik içindeydi

Rüya gibiydi

Bir hayaldi sanki.

    TÜRKAN ERGÖR, Turkey

#dylanday

 Türkan Ergör, Sociologist, Philosopher, Writer, Poet, Art Photography Model.

 Türkan Ergör was born in city Çanakkale, Turkey. She was selected International "Best Poet 2020,2021,2022" and International "Best Author/Writer 2021, 2022" and FIRST PRIZE FOR THE OUTSTANDING AUTHOR IN 2022.