Останалото е Блага Димитрова...

По стихове на Блага Димитрова - Жена

krasi5

https://chitanka.info/text/24989

How troublesome to be a woman.

Beauty and a smile to be

in the everyday grey circle

fidelity - against the variable wind,

tenderness - in the crumbling world.

Of the innumerable ways of the earth

the riskiest to choose -

the reckless path of the heart

and all the way to go.

Your only joy to be

joy to give ... To be in the night

a bright window waiting,

the first step that woke up the morning.

You, the weakness, to support

the strength of the hand is stiff.

And the unforgiving forgiveness,

and build a life of debris.

It is your responsibility to be a woman.

The future to wear in the womb.

Continue in a child's cry

the long, silent kiss.

Eternity to do for a short moment.

Your arms outstretched

swing to become a new life.

At night over him sleepless to thunder,

bright as the veil of the vault.

Every childish smile - with a wrinkle

to pay in the hair with frost.

Tear the tear of the new blade

your beauty to surrender.

Nothing for yourself to leave.

She is sacrificed to be a woman.

And to a wounded, broken breast

the clean springs to defend -

just for the world to exist.

I'm proud to be a woman.

*
https://www.sandiegoreader.com/news/2010/aug/18/poetry-blaga-dimitrova/#

Ars Poetica

• Write each of your poems
• as if it were your last.
• In this century, saturated with strontium,
• charged with terrorism,
• flying at supersonic speed,
• death comes with terrifying suddenness.
• Send each of your words
• like the last letter before execution,
• a call carved on a prison wall.
• You have no right to lie,
• no right to play pretty little games.
• You simply won’t have time
• to correct your mistakes.
• Write each of your poems,
• tersely, mercilessly,
• with blood — as if it were your last.

*

As Long as You’re Upright

• Don’t forget to rejoice! —
• the wise trees whisper
• as they crash on failing knees
• under the axe.
• Don’t forget to rejoice!
• As long as you’re upright,
• as long as you encounter the wind,
• as long as you breathe the heights.
• As long as the axe slumbers.

*

LULLABY FOR MY MOTHER In the evening I smooth her sheets, covered with deep wrinkles. Her hand, withered by giving, pulls me towards the night. Half asleep, barely able to speak, she says in a childish voice, so naturally, "Mommy!" I become my mother's mother. A cataclysm, a reversal of the earth's axis— the poles flip over. What was I doing? I don't have time for philosophical musings. I dry her impatiently— a skill, I've learnt from her. "Mommy," she whispers, guiltily, remembering her naughtiness. Cold air blows in the window. The heating pad. The glass. The pills. To adjust the lampshade. "Mommy, don't go away! I am afraid of the dark!" Who is losing her mind, she or I? Heavy with pain and fear, crying, she waits for me to take her in my arms. Two orphans cuddle in the winter cradle. Which am I? Wake me up early tomorrow! I am afraid, I'll oversleep! Dear Lord is there something I have forgotten? Who will be late, she or I? Mommy, my child, sleep! Lullaby, my baby . . .

*

Blaga Dimitrova (1922–2003) was not only one of Bulgaria’s most loved and celebrated writers — the author of many collections of poetry as well as novels, plays, and essays — but also an important figure in her nation’s political life, becoming the first vice president of Bulgaria after the fall of the Communist government. These two poems are translated by Ludmilla G. Popova-Wightman from Scars: Poems of Blaga Dimitrova, published by Ivy Press, Princeton, NJ, and are reprinted by permission.*

*

http://www.mytwostotinki.com/?tag=anna-akhmatova
http://www.ivypressprinceton.com/sample5.html
http://www.ivypressprinceton.com/sample3.html
https://glli-us.org/2018/06/11/9465/

Blaga Dimitrova, born in 1922 in Byala Zlatina and graduated in 1945 in Slavic philology at the University of Sofia. In the 1970’s, four of her poetry books were banned from publication. She was one of the most popular and loved writers in Bulgaria, was vice president of her country in the first democratic government after the fall of communism. She is the author of more than forty volumes of poetry, novels, plays, and essays. Her books have been translated into more than twenty languages. She has won the Herder Prize, the Hristo G. Danov Prize, the German Kogge Prize, and was awarded the French Medal of Merit for Freedom. Blaga Dimitova died 2003 in Sofia.