/View.data/ Guys, I do know I already misplaced you
and the dry bread, and the naked brandy,
and the heavy sky of this poor girl
a rustic the place there isn’t a procopia….
Her royal beliefs
in the present day they’re already a legendary archaism.
Bulgaria trades in rags
from his society’s chest.
Bulgaria is a hungry beggar.
With a damaged soul barefoot,
she asks for international alms
on the street between London and Calcutta.
Honesty is sick, conscience is drunk,
and the halos – Alush-verishi
and he who weeps with Debelyanov is mad
on a kind of white cherry.
With great energy in the present day from heaven
hangs a query in half-hang:
Inform me the place the liberty is
from our blue autumn Samhain?
Why does he entertain with varied wealthy folks?
and traitors who got here to energy and trend,
with rickety bandwagons and Apaches…
Why is he with them? Why is it not with the folks?
Guys, I do know it is loopy over there
we mourn freedom and white cherries.
Within the nation of Vasil Ivanov Kunchev
in the present day all romances are ineffective.
However for example, rattling it,
with a person’s voice on this barren evening
and he complained – as in Turkish occasions,
“The place are you, believer, beloved of the folks?”
A Bulgarian poem
Creator:
Ivaylo Balabanov died on July 20, 2021.
Might the reminiscence of the poet be clear!
2024-07-22 17:59:01
#Bulgaria #hungry #beggar #Pogled #Data
