বাংলা English


The engravings in the fog are evoking the memories
that the life was eternal once upon a time
that Breckland thyme was growing on the shore of the impossible
that the universe lives in the body of its infiniteness
that even the infiniteness has its own volume and the memory has time
that the mould of the night keeps the footprint of the day
that the Sun goes down in our palms
and rises up again from the life lines
and the death whispers to the life
that the good goes on

through the engravings of the fog, the tongue slides 
on the bloody thread of the history like a snail
tied on the blind dot of the nose
and no one could ever see the other end with the word
from which everything has started and the lips like birds travelling to the south 
are migrating for so long under the awnings of an unspoken time,

are we ill because the Sun cannot reach
the shadow that has hidden under our skins
and is afraid to grow towards West or to contract to the East
or because the Sun is just a temporary engraving 
of a shabby dime of a past time
that hangs on a chain of imaginary days in the fog
and I am just a ring that is closest to the imaginary Sun

on the railway platform, the last dot gets down as well
and the last passenger car disappears with the end of the sentence 
and the waiting itself is magnet needle in the fog
and it is only me who is waiting for the moment to bear fruit
when with a cavalry of the seconds a wind will start to blow
and it will take away everything but the fear that each moment
an apocalypse could happen if only we think of it 

nevertheless it is enough for us to remember that the shore of the impossible
is right behind the fog and that the Breckland thyme
grows on the palms of the universe
and that among the three dots of the infiniteness anything is possible
and that the universe lives in the body of its infiniteness
and that even the infiniteness has its own volume and the memory has time
and that the mould of the night keeps the footprint of the day
and that the Sun will go down in our palms again
and will rise up again from the life lines
and that the death whispers to the life
that the good goes on


all of a sudden
I saw     
a shadow
with its cat
the moon, too,
saw the sun
with my body
this town
for which
no one can remember 
The Town of Hands
it is called
people here 
haven’t seen their hands
everything began
with a shadow play
in front of
old lamp


I was attentively juggling 
with my red blood cells
you came along, as well
juggling with white blood cells
and while the game of passion was taking place
in which we have mixed all of our cells together
to be cautious you said to me 
at once
because not a cell you are allowed 
to lose 
the white ones – you need to live
the red ones – you need to love me


Sun oh Sun
in countless knots you entangle in my head

and in the gloom
when I pull out the longest thread of the sorrow
you are the one that I untangle, again

Sun oh Sun
Will there be enough stitches of days and nights
to prevent unknitting the writing 
in which we have embodied ourselves

How many stitches will you unravel
out of my shadow to turn me into a ray
like the one with which I have come to the world 

Sun oh Sun
will you blow my ashes in the infinity at the end
and will you keep blazing
with the pure and invisible flame of my soul

be a light that cannot be seen
but without which we would have been blind
and interweave with the knots of my words, too
Sun oh Sun

Borche Panov
  Borche Panov was born on September 27, 1961 in Radovish, The Republic of North Macedonia. He graduated from the ''Sts. Cyril and Methodius'' University of Skopje in Macedonian and South Slavic Languages (1986). He has been a member of the “Macedonian Writers’ Association” since 1998. He has published: a) poetry: “What did Charlie Ch. See from the Back Side of the Screen” (1991), “Cyclone Eye” (1995), “Stop, Charlie” (2002), “Tact” (2006), “The Riddle of Glass” (2008), “Basilica of Writing” (2010), “Mystical Supper” (2012), “Vdah” (The Breathe of Life) (2014), “Human Silences” (2016), “Uhania” (2017), “Shell” (2018); and several essays and plays: “The Fifth Season of the Year” (2000), “The Doppelgänger Town” (2011), “A Dead-end in the Middle of an Alley” (2002), “Homo Soapiens” (2004), “Catch the Sleep-walker” (2005), “Split by its own Nose” (2006), and “Summertime Cinema” (2007). He has also poetry books published in other languages: “Particles of Hematite” (2016 - in Macedonian and Bulgarian language, published in Bulgaria), “Vdah” (2017 – in Slovenian, published in Slovenia), “Balloon Shaving” (2018 – Serbian, published in Serbia), “Fotostiheza” (“Photopoesis, 2019 – Bulgarian, published in Bulgaria), “Blood that Juggles with 80000 Thoughts” (2021 in Croatian, published in Croatia). 
  His poetry was published in a number of anthologies, literary magazines and journals both at home and abroad, and his works are translated into English, Ukrainian, Slovenian, Bosnian, Serbian, Croatian, Bulgarian, French, Catalonian, Mongolian, Uzbek, Albanian, Romanian, Polish, Italian, Arabic, Vietnamese, Chinese, and Danish language.
 Panov works as a Counselor for Culture and Education at the municipality of Radovish, and he is also Arts Coordinator for the “International Karamanov’s Poetry Festival”, held in Radovish annually (the first edition of the festival was in 1967). 
 Poetry from Borche Panov is translated from Macedonian into English 
 by Daniela Andonovska-Trajkovska

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