| Author: Nikola Madzirov | a broken button
in a garden of roses
the thread’s on the thorn |
| Author: Dimitar Argakiev | a gentle touch
maybe it’s a memory
or a butterfly |
| Author: Iskra Doneva | a man with a rod
the fish is in the river
waiting for break fast |
| Author: Smajil Drumišević | a prayer in a Holy grove
so as to the oak,
who are these people? |
| Author: Toni Pavleski | a sketch of a wood stove
drawn in a raging snowstorm
by an orphan child. |
| Author: Smajil Drumišević | an innocent beauty
everywhere—žepa is a tear
take your shoes off |
| Author: Iskra Doneva | black dust is falling
a matchstick which is half burned
between the fingers
|
| Author: Smajil Drumišević | Bosnia a country
of man, stone and dreams
a divine omen |
| Author: H. Petreski | do not pour water
into the fire, the dust
will burst in your eyes |
| Author: Andres Ehin | Fir-trees are high,
but drown nevertheless
into birds’ song. |
| Author: Vladimir Martinovski | how soft they appear
the needles of the pine tree
after the first snow. |
| Author: Petko Dabeski | I’m laying long
lying with my eyes open
looking into myself |
| Author: Dimitar Argakiev | I wasn’t brave
to go out into my yard
there was a dove. |
| Author: Toni Pavleski | leap over a thorn
running away from the pain
I broke a flower |
| Author: Alexandar Prokopiev | my underpanties
are washing in a whirlwind
while I’m watching still. |
| Author: Smajil Drumišević | Summer in Prague,
suddenly I noticed
an Arabian rose |
| Author: Smajil Drumišević | the dawn of honey
and an ancient call—beware,
innocent, write down everything |
| Author: Andres Ehin | The day is nightblind.
Only a raindrop glows
on the dark windowglass. |
| Author: Petko Dabeski | the knee is glowing
on the bare knee the pollen
has gently fallen |
| Author: Aleksandar Popovski | the nests are so high
on the stone of resistance
thunders are nesting |
| Author: Alexandar Prokopiev | the rooster is here
just in time for the lunch time
the lunch time of ours |
| Author: H. Petreski | the songs I’ve burned
are the songs that have made the best
distance from myself |
| Author: Nikola Madzirov | the television
has broken down – inside the screen
we see our faces |
| Author: Smajil Drumišević | the wild rose
blooms, smells discreetly and stings
it grows where it wants |
| Author: Aleksandar Popovski | there are kind of days
when the silence is speaking
the rest is silent |
| Author: Smajil Drumišević | tombstones moved to the
museum—yet they are
all our kings! |
| Author: Smajil Drumišević | villains, you should know
Hamid is waiting for you – shaheed
on eternal guard |
| Author: Vladimir Martinovski | we swim on our backs
us – in the ocean
the cloud – in the sky. |
| Author: Andres Ehin | You, the ice-hole in limestone quarry,
reflect today
the cold sun in its entirety. |
| Author: Smajil Drumišević | you, the traveller, a friend
do you feel the fragrance of our
Bosnian soul? |
