Taifas Literary Magazine No. 12, June, 2021 by Ioan Muntean

2 authors ... p. 2 editorial ... p. 3 poetry ... p. 6 prose ... p. 27

essay ... p. 36 confabulation ... p. 39 3 authors ... p. 47

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 12, June, 2021

coperta2 2 authors

Dr. Prasans Kumar Dalai India

Gordana Andonovska Macedonia

Born and die!

An empty promise

I want to born and die with you! To spend all moments with you. I know you are with me. The first thing that I see. I want you to be. All the love inside me is sleeping. You can share the love that I have been keeping. I want to feel every beat of your heart. That may be regret. I don't want to loose by the time. I knew one day you will be mine. I know you don't want to leave me. Cause, the love inside me has been sleeping. Now the love that I have been keeping.

He swore eternal love... He said you love me... He promised me that together we would go to the shining rainbow... Your promises made me stand firm in the storm of life... I greeted every trouble with a smile... I was brave... Nothing could break me... But... You left me... You left with a full suitcase of my unfulfilled dreams... I was left with a broken heart, staring at the desert of my soul... There are no more tears in my eye... It dried up... Your promise remained Just for you! floating somewhere in the silence of my heart Some one,like you could love me! tormented by pain... You can't place no one above me. Sometimes I come back Is this feeling of two hearts? to pray for love... Only you can answer! I return with my head bowed... I used to keep dreaming on or just forget you? without a glimmer of hope... God knows,you will knew. There is only sorrow between us ... I have forget all the words you have spoken. That ever... Maybe... No regrets of my hear is broken. Our eyes will meet... I have loved you for a million years. And ..in them if there Did mistake this for a real love? is any spark left from that strong That only you can answer. love... Or keep dreaming or forget you. Or say you love me too!

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 12, June, 2021

editorial 3-4

passersby’s gaze fixed on her and spoke to

Ana Smiljanic

herself over and over again…Yes, I love! Don’t you get it?! I love!

Serbia

“I’m in the shop. I’ve just stopped to buy

Making a pledge Bajadera sweets, and I will be home in half an It was summer and the heat burned her shoulders and melted her make-up, while the silky dress revealed her bronze thighs as she walked. She herself stared at her body curves and felt dizziness while walking.

hour.” – I’ve just texted her. Whenever she heard that CLICK, which meant a new text message, her body shuddered, her thoughts wandered away and she remembered the previous night and the deep breakthrough. The face of a woman in love was like an open

Anna Fonteg would soon pass a shop shell. The pearly glow in the sclera revealed selling fine crystal vases, her heart secret. Could porcelain figures, silk this love last while I was tablecloths,

and

other

alive?!

The

CLICK

wonders, of which some

followed, and this time I

people’s

beat

got a photo. Out of the

stronger. And, if the vase

open bag came a box in

she liked was still in the

cellophane – that of the

shop

Bajadera sweets. I knew

magnificent and tall – she

it! The mutual feeling of

imagined it in the hallway

besottedness

on her grandmother’s old

and amazed us at the

hearts

window

–

fascinated

rustic table with plenty of white roses…If the same time; it lifted us to unprecedented vase wasn’t sold, it would be theirs! And she heights and provoked laughter followed by wouldn’t stop loving, she wouldn’t stop giving gentle, long kisses whose strength made us herself and daydreaming of life in two. The feel exhausted. I’d never kissed like that. beauty of the soul was reflected in a crystal Anna’s kiss was special. And I didn’t expect it glitter this time.

to be like that, but it was, it fell on my lips like

She stood for almost a full minute, a hurricane, like a tune, a bite of the lips that catching air, breathing in the splendor of the made you lose yourself in it and made your scent of hundreds of roses that she could not of tugs falling on the corners of my lips and

imagined space and smelling the intensive blood freeze. The kiss was like a tug, hundreds get out of her head. She nourished her eyes then slowly prickling, followed by a gentle with beauty, invigorated her heart and licking resembling a balm that healed the accelerated

her

year I, no. 12, 2021, June

pace. She noticed

the wound. When lust reached its peak, when it ISSN 2458-0198 – ISSN-L 2458-0198

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 12, June, 2021

almost started to torment both body and soul, over again, only to leave them on the night there was a period of those deep, real kisses

table beside my headboard. The feeling of

that touched the palate and made me wonder constant love hunger engulfed us like a furious whether her absorption into me excelled my wind that whooshed, pulled, tore us apart and penetration into her. Choking, yes, it was threw us at each other in such a way that we similar to choking. And I never stopped were unable to breathe. The dreadful, screaming with excitement in my head and indecipherably deep chasm we used to drag checking whether our lips were warmer and along with us was almost filled. I saw her wetter than the thing I was looking for with my tremble and I just said, “You’re eager.” I saw hand under my navel.

her crying and losing the ground beneath her

“It’s sharp five now. So the alarm would feet the moment I mentioned that it was too sound in an hour. I’m afraid I’m going to have late for one thing. It was too late to have kids. a crazy day and that I’m

Upon hearing this, she

going to fall asleep at

opened her mouth, as a

work again”, she said.

silent expression of pain, and a tear streamed down

“It’s only five. So we

her cheek as she moaned

still have a lot of time.

heartbroken

Besides, this is one of the

with

the

thought of her offspring

first days in May. We still

being irretrievably lost,

have an afternoon for

while her eyes gave out an

Zemun and a walk by the

expression of such a deep

river. We won’t be able to

sorrow that it seemed as

do this in front of the

passersby. Do not complain. There’s no reason if someone had started to tear her hand off. At the time when it seemed the world’s end was for it. Please.” The white nights of St. Petersburg experienced in an apartment, the white bed sheets instead of street lamps, the feelings riveted in the senses of two bodies and the simultaneous invocation of God or the devil,

resembled a double stake in poker. In the moments of complete madness, I started to remind her how good we felt, by drawing her

approaching she smiled at me in a manner she did twenty years ago – there she was, unbreakable and loyal, repeating my name until

she

became

overwhelmed

with

happiness and laughter, increasingly adamant to receive this summer’s gifts and flourishing nights. Although she fearfully climbed the steps

attention to the looks of the passersby of my soul every day, as if facing execution by directed at us or even by taking the lyrics I shooting or waiting to be crowned, Anna

wrote to her and reading them aloud over and decided to give it a try, to believe, to give our ISSN 2458-0198 - ISSN-L 2458-0198

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relationship a chance. And I carried her from breath for a moment before she could ask me one room to another, kissing her body so the same question. I laughed and said to her, carefully as if I sanctified the place and telling completely convinced in what I was saying, her that she was more beautiful than any

“How could you think of that? And who could I

woman I had met. In moments like these her possibly want beside you?” happiness was so great that she could barely stand on her feet.

It has been many years since then. My hair has already turned gray and I have made

Sometimes I found her on the balcony, my first million. This was how I explained my worried and thoughtful, staring at the linden reasons to her, as I recall. The event has fallen tree outside the window. She could remain into oblivion. You ask if I loved her? Yes. I did. silent for a long period of time and enjoy the But time has inevitably done its part, it divided shade, as if she had some special sense of the memories into the good ones and the bad symbiosis with the nature

ones. And life went on like

reflected in her eyes. And

a waterfall - its water

the linden tree, the linden

washed the stones as so

tree seemed to extend its

many summers washed

branches towards her as

away the stormy clouds of

if they were hands trying

her eyes and so many

to reach her, and it

winters made the tingling

seemed as if they together

sensations

made a golden number. I

from my skin. Anna had

believe she could have

several loves after that.

been an inspiration to a

Her kisses were never the

disappear

fantasist who could paint her or write a few same again, but I knew they were not losing chords in her glory. And it would happen their strength. And all would have been long during the summer rain. Since one could not forgotten if it hadn’t been for the old linden imagine Anna without the rain and the wind. tree watching old movies and persistently The rain as a symbol of the shadow resembling hitting my windows once and then at night. a barbell over her eyes and the wind as the

And me?! I, gray-haired and older, do not

believed in prophetic powers of lightning and pledges… loved Tesla. One night, while we were sitting

Translation: Milena Nikolić

pursuer of her restless spirit and the freedom know now why I kept telling her stories of our she enjoyed. She did not like injustice, she living together, why I joked and made

completely naked in a linden’s embrace, I asked her if she would ever cheat on me. She shook her head decisively and was out of year I, no. 12, 2021, June

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 12, June, 2021

poetry 6-25

Rezauddin Stalin

The naked cry of notation at naked time All the clowns frauds are singing battle songs

Bangladesh

(14) All the watchmen guard the school in groups All children take lessons of stones Translated by: Kushal Bhowmick All teachers are sentries of prison

Days of Crucifixion

(13) Rising and sitting in the South-East, love with (15) fire The unprejudiced understands the SouthGave birth to Jesus again in the angry West episode Jerusalem The organised anger opens the story of life Nobody cares the pronunciation of plants With the organic sweat of the farmer No worries about the bowl's order of bread

This city belongs to them, the poets think He buys dreams in exchange of moon's currency He has a sky And a home inside He sleeps in the bed of air Take tea sitting on an ethereal chair He creates letters with fire And made poetry by cheese

All the enthusiastic animals of departure land The children feeding the thirsty squirrel The hungry monkey is getting on shoulder And running away with biscuits The green trees of the island are singing The song of water scarcity The birds are taking of

days to come The sacrificial animals tied in front of the house are crying The dog, running with the Lord's car is panting The car, thinking it is the victim, chasing the Ping-Pong ball Rats were crushed while crossing the road There are no clouds in the sky of idiots The teenager is running after the butterfly in The Lord does not touch the grain of their eyes the park They think all technology belong to their father The crow is shouting that evening is coming Google vomits their wishes desires Few vampires from an unknown place are entering the attic There is no place for flies to go Rebel fish breaking the aquarium came to the road Only the roar of cockroaches The rooster is chasing his partner for Only the procession of ants returning home Only the competition of abandoned garments

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And the animals that are in the forest And the animals that are in the zoo And the animals that are guinea pigs And those who are reincarnated Terrible Horrible Inhuman Victims of miserable cruelty

The event dies on the very first day Rules the second day Cry dies on third day And the surprise on the fourth

(16) This huge animal world is against compassion Participated in the revolution of change of days They came down the road Blood in every street The fragrance of gunpowder on the road The thirsty alphabet

Now, no animals return home everyday No life is subject to notation No anger lasts in love

(17) Upward and Downward: from ten directions The appendix comes in zigzag way Now cotton is flying automatically from the eyes of cities Fluent smoke from the ears The city is being purified on the thorny beds of hospitals They are listening to the peddler's squeaking entreaty Vehicles suffering from pretend-fever are standing on one day Bread is turning on the wheels of the rickshaw Nose and ears of blood are keep rotating The cities are reclining in a relaxed memory year I, no. 12, 2021, June

Our agitation is fried with thunder Blindness is created by love Breathing creates the tempest (18) Backbone is made with surprise Protests are with biasness Here is not the end of everything Not even the beginning And our poetry Not mere meaningless words

Courage Don't think my darling— If someone gives you the sky I will give you the Sun. If he gives you the rain I will give you the tree, More precious than diamond. I will give you the fastest boat If anyone gives you the river.

Out of this bloody place Everyone is walking towards the promised land.

Dreams of life are made with hunger Aspirations with waiting Panic with uncertainty

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If someone lights a chandelier I will fill the path with starlight. If he gives you a golden nose-ring I will make the same with the rainbow. If someone gives an anklet I will give you the river's splosh. Don't think my darling— If he promises you with a golden book Simply I will give you the alphabet Of my mother-tongue. If anyone gives you the worldwide house I will give you only a full-length sari Just to cover your hidden organs. Translator: Ujjal Ghosh

Binoculars Returns to helpless childhood as a horserider of memories When everything was worthy Peanut chocolate ice cream Till today the parakeet bought at the fair Comes and sits on the shoulder The lips are red as before Hot jelebi pulls tongue Keeps it long With a laugh Papad breaks in my palm Binoculars bought with a little savings Look around in ecstasy And with the magic of the jinns How amazing everything becomes big Man- nature Everything exists on the continent of memory The moon still goes to sleep In my pocket The sun rises late in the west

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Even today, newspaper headlines are tied to a hook wireless binoculars of Jessolin are printed in new stars But I’m looking for what I bought in my teenage years That’s the infallible telescope once again I will see everything big Man and nature

Rezauddin Stalin Rezauddin Stalin is a well-known poet in Bangladesh and beyond and is born on 22nd November 1962 in Jessore, Bangladesh. He has done his Bachelor's degree in Economics and MA in Political Science from Dhaka University. He is the former Deputy Director of Nazrul Institute where he was employed for 35 years. Stalin’s poems got translated in most languages in the world and he is also a wellknown TV anchor and media personality in Bangladesh. Stalin is the founder and chairman of the Performing Art Center and is also the senior editor of Magic Lonthon - a literary organization. He has received many awards and some accolades are: Darjeeling Natto Chokhro Award India (1985), Bangla Academy (2006), Micheal Modhushudhan Dutta Award (2009), Shobho Shachi Award West Bengal (2011), Torongo of California Award USA(2012), Writers club Award California USA (2012), Badam Cultural Award California USA (2012), City Ananda Alo Award(2015), West Bengal, India, Centre Stage Barashat Award (2018), Journalist Association Award UK (2018) and Silk Road Poet Laureate Award Xi’an China (2020).

TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 12, June, 2021

Dr. Suresh Chandra Sarangi

Love to hatred Friendship to enemy

India

There is no freedom to speak The art of painting Fresh air to breath Clean water tto drink And a sustainabke place to live When you paint a tree, the tree tell you something. How can I say? The tree gives you I am on my way It's significance. As you are not with me The beauty of it, How can I keep the quietness, the movement, Good faith on my deeds? The shades, the depth and the shape. The flutter of a leaf Esteem frustration makes all tell you something, me spritless and you paint, How can I get Absotute you don't merely copy a Bless? leaf, Bijayalaxmi Rath but you want to express the feeling of the tree. India But in expressing , If your mind compares Our own time Your work with one of a great painter, "It is our own happy time, Then you cease to paint. Without interference let's shine" My love's passionate love note Soars my soul up and up. India Makes me forget the world's rotation Voice of Hard Time Reach to your world without hesitation. Freeze my time with a wink Squeeze to my love in a blink. It is really a hard time for me Passionate embrace with sweet kisses As I am suffering from three Love grows deep in night's silence. Night glitters to its most I am suffering from Love lamps dazzle with lots of hope. Deep depression Melancholic silence speaks a lot Illness Demands our heart's love utmost. Change of mental conditions. Merging with feelings and emotions My thoughts are blowing Loving hearts turn each other's potion. Happiness to sorrow Fortune to misfortune year I, no. 12, 2021, June

Dr. Minti Gogoi

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 12, June, 2021

Dr. Sahadev Behera

Leena Rajan

India

Promise

Resilience after falls

Promise is not a single word in the dictionary , Sun after night, brightly comes out with light It has it's own power and functionary. of life and hope, Succumbs, if it to failure, no day will follow, It carries the meaning of sense of trust and belief, with life's scope. That is a high quality of condition to keep for relief. Spring lacks blossoms and leaves, if river is It's an oath and bond with words of heart, Never destroy the faith between or part.

ever dried up, So is its disability to invite rain forming clouds of water drop.

It's a commitment to keep the words for a period of time, And it also a hard task to intake as a lime. Everything in the world, tie up with a promise, To allow all the action and reaction as in wise.

Which river is on Earth that never dries up, and trees never whither, Which

day

there

without night, following brilliant rays' shower? World would have been in darkness and in dryness due to lack of water,

Swear to do the things or pay as you decide, Never betraye anybody to die or suicide.

Water from rains creates leaves to trees that give shades in summer.

Promise is an agreement to do with If we cannot remember our failures, we have collaboration, We can say honour of word, parole or lost greatest of Gurus, Ingenious lessons learnt from Gurus like, revelation. faults, unfulfilment and mistakes, It is a bit of condition to bid and assertion, If we change our outlook, with resilience, we To win the challenge with strong affirmation. are uplifted, after failures, Imitating sunshine, the gold to be found on We promise to help others, be kind, and love Earth, after darkness. with respect, That makes our life happiness and live with perfect.

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Ventilated underground hideouts why;

Elizabeth M. Cahimbing

Save the children wings of existence Greedy skull has ate the apple of sin Rain Digging wealthy resources started a never ending dark revolution, victory is green now

My heart flooded in tears Left me without a word over the years I was like drifted apart from soaking rain Exhausted and all my tears went down to drain Like rain keeps pouring down on my cheek Tormented heart, let me fix the leak Walking through rain dispels my uncertainty Crashing the pains of immaturity A rainbow of hope appears in a complacent mood Strikingly silhouetted against sullen mood Lungi Shigo Msusa Sauth Africa

Victory is green now Time in an hourglass As beautiful things pass They're slowly falling to grave Leaving so much one can save Ozone layer is dying on our watch Our survival, a gaseous death trap Industrial revolution, manmade suicide Layer by layer we chasing doomsday Fourth industrial revolution when, who; Global warming, who's really responsible; Oxygen is getting less and less, why; Green gas emulsion, decades away why; Inquisitive child who's answering you; Greedy skull who's money is it anyway; Tell me why your oxygen gas tanks visible; year I, no. 12, 2021, June

Dusmanta Choudhury India

Her Golden Tresses Her love, in her heart shall dwell For the noble cause of life's fuel Knowing all that so glitters here From the sky,her voices I do hear Neither the storm nor hurricane No dark, no light,but God's feign Beholds she all , but stands still Finds no alteration, at any thrill Drinks bitter juice,draws a smile On her rosy lips,none can revile What a soul that God ever made As a blue lotus in a holly cascade Flows a dulcet in her holly voice Fail all sweet lyrics,her to rejoice No poet so tries to reveal her wit Unravished is her lore's every bit Tumbles often her golden tress About her face as nimbus bless Gathering all beauties in life & soul None on earth can ever her cajole

Tarlac - Philippines

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 12, June, 2021

Sherife Allko

Sugar Zedna

Albania

Philippines

My childhood In the meadows and pastures, free running like a beautiful laurel. I forgot the lawns where the cattle grazed on the wet grass. With my little breasts, collecting daisy flowers, primrose.

Ponder In life, We are hurled With daily battles Some we thought We'd never win

Eh! I do not know what song murmuring in silence with my childish lips, but I know I always sang happily, and my eyes shone endlessly.

But as we ponder Meek sages gain. Roaring rogues lose.

Sleep gripped me under the walnut tree that whispered like a sleepy lullaby, when I woke up, I was looking for my mother through tears and sobs.

One day passed, others passed, and I have hair with a comb on my shoulder, I left for the field to work like a little farmer together with my grandfather, my uncles. And the years went by one by one, how fast I grew and gained weight. I remember them with a lot of nostalgia my childhood years, where the eyes they shone like stars in the sky.

A witty and cautious Approach

any

challenge Is our first line of defense. Before we grab our spears And aim at our foes. As mighty leaders profess: All's that the psyche envision, The physique can accomplish. Meditate. We might need to examine our innate enemy first... Ourselves.

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Mahanaj Parvin

Bangladesh

Feel My thoughts take care of you, Your presence in the letter of thought, A thousand colors of love story fly, My thoughts pick up on your memory.

Simte Gândurile mele au grijă de tine, Prezența ta e-n litera gândului O mie de culori ai unei povești de dragoste zboară Gândurile mele se adună pe memoria ta.

But why are your thoughts so inconsistent? Dar de ce gândurile tale sunt atât de Why is there so much dust in the body of inconsecvente? thought? De ce-i atâta praf în trupul gândului? Who chains the legs of Cine leagă picioarele thought! gândului! Who robs your thoughts! Cine jefuiește gândurile! Translated by Bogdana Găgeanu

Traducere de Bogdana Găgeanu

Dasharath Naik India

Forgetting all the narrowness Let's be one and united; We are but one race, Human race ; Do realise This.

United we stand'nd divided We fall ; truly said it is; Terrorism terrible Kills enmasse,lo; Humanity At risk.

Ego, Racism , Casteism , Regionalism etc All 're means to make Us fall undoubtedly;know it.

Save Yourself; Saving mankind Urgent need of hour Forget not;play yo'r role Make world a united whole.

year I, no. 12, 2021, June

United we stand

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Because there are so many sentimental surrogates Hiden faces So that the faces of light They're useless, We wear the right ones Hiden faces Urban jungle! Yes, hidden faces And we feel like carnivores We each own them, Run on behalf of our progress, We make them like a strange spider Towards the last desert, He weaves inside In which hidden faces Strange canvases, They will fall one after another, In which the words and faces of the world are Like blind snake skins caught What else is he looking for? Fragments of souls and hurried steps, The last drop of rain… Faces we show discreetly, Ramina Herrera Involuntarily or knowingly, Peru Perverted or cynical! When the everyday face, Night The one we'll freeze with one day at the end of the line In the absolute He has to stay away, circles and squares From that gregarious darkness instinct a little light To survive and win! it sneaks through the The faces of fear, hatred, crack perversio at some point, Anguish, as Forbidden Pleasures, I do not know Greedy nonsense, I only know that it is light Rapacity and sadism! start to light up my eyes Few hidden faces are innocent, that every time Forgiving or sensitive, they observe better, Or if they are they remain so hidden I see the atoms So hard to find them! the thoughts Even if in a fit of guilt the air We still want to wear them the mystery They are lost! Maybe forever! Because we can't wait to unlock it Those childish doors Those doors of tears and love

Mihai Katin

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 12, June, 2021

Mili Das

Shanta Farjana Bangladesh

I will back I have to win this fight. Death scares me all the time. But I wouldn't be afraid. Society is scaring me. People are scaring me. The government is scaring me. All the news channels are scaring me. If I keep my eyes on the newspaper, i can only see the fire of the furnace is burning. We don't know when this fire will be extinguished? But I don't get scared so easily. No one is giving me courage. I made myself brave. When someone scares me, I sing,i dance,i read and write. Whenever I have time , I talk with my poetry. And smiles like crazy with joy. No one can keep me well, Only I can keep myself well. If the body doesn't accompany me, I know my mind will accompany me. I must return after winning this epidemic. I'll be back. I have to win this fight and I have to.

year I, no. 12, 2021, June

Eyes Every human being has three eyes Two eyes; everyone can see Two eyes; can see everything But, in the deepest corner of the mind That third eye does not know how to blink Not everyone can see that eye That eye never cries Never laughs Never becomes gloomy Always stays silent The eye is vibrant in the bend of everyone's heart wave. Robbers third eye is blind; Can't see the wailing of the people. The eyes of some doctors are trickish; As it’s the matter of amused; patient bended by test-drug as burden. The eye of a few unborn men believes in magical powers; 24 hours finding the triangle inside of the woman. And, the eyes of the public representative are empty! They have no past-history, no futureconsciousness. They just drop their hands and feet to fulfil the current bag. And that hiding eye of a woman; Sometimes desert Sometimes sea Sometimes a reeling hurricane However, not everyone can see it... Because, not everyone sees...

Kolkata India

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Sudha Dixit India

There’s Reason To Betray I am so sorry my love! With a heavy heart I say I must bid you goodbye I cannot here stay You had been good to me, Did not, ever, betray But something has come up And I’ve to go away It’s painful for me to Think of those rapturous days When all was hunky-dory, No work and only play We loved each other but that Was never on display, Still the troubles and doubts, We, always, kept on bay

But now I must declare With anguish and dismay, I have to leave the town, ‘twas A destiny that went astray I will never forget you I’ll wait for you anyway I don’t know whom to blame, Maybe God’s feet of clay Don’t be so cross dearest There must’ve been a compulsion No one becomes disloyal, Unless there is some reason ISSN 2458-0198 - ISSN-L 2458-0198

Radhika Tytler India

Lonesome but content I stand and talk to the sky In the evening time The pretty clouds pass by Smiling at my well being I am lonesome But content I have achieved my goals With statisfaction on every road I have laid my foundation well Standing rooted into the soil I did my hard work And now I live at ease Lonely a bit I feel But suppress this feel With my capabilities There is so much in this world Yet to be achieved I have one mind and two hands I am confident To labour ahead This world is a field We sow and plough The crops of abilities Will surely harvest Bringing joy in every season I am talking to my dearest sky Who rains on my field And I thank you for your Godly presence And for giving me a listening ear Filling the vacuum in my heart And I see the night has come With stars glittering all over In the mighty sky And I shall take leave And sleep with a sigh!!! TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 12, June, 2021

Punya Devi

Nnamdi Patrick Nigeria

"Equivalency"

Bringing back humanity

Who can tolerate equality in reality If all the people will achieve the peak Where you are standing Will not you be apprehensive

The world today is filled with bodies, But without the sight of souls anywhere near. A world where humans have forsaken love, Replacing it with the quest for gratifications.

If all of your friends Become intelligence brave Wise rich and healthy as you are Will not you burn in comprehensive

I wish for a world filled with humans who love. A world where peace is sancrosant and revered. I pray for a world where humanity comes first, Before religions,class,race, colour and gender.

No never nobody can screw these With heart and soul Because everyone has his own logic Sanity vanity liberty purity As well as remission and emotions

But all the people could have Dreamt a dream of equality That our hearts should be As deep as an ocean Our visions should touch the Last horizon At the moment of distribution We can follow the rule of the sun Because we must realize the truth that Our mother the earth has dedicated Her fertile bosom to all her children

year I, no. 12, 2021, June

I wish for a world where there's no war, No genocides, xenophobic madness and slavery. A place where every man is equal and respected. Not because of status but because he's human. That world is achievable and realistic, If only we come together as one and believe. The world must learn that no matter what happens, We're all the world has left; humanity. (Nnamdi patrick wenga,is a poet, peace ambassador and teacher from Nigeria. He is globally acclaimed and his poems have been published on international journals and magazines.)

India

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 12, June, 2021

Malak Nora Hammadi Algeria

*quiet moment*

I wish I could escape from all the hustle and bustle. How precious is a moment of calm to seize and celebrate with myself my loneliness.. this period I prefer the dimensions of my room, it is enough for me To create a world of truth far from the false world On my small table inhabits a lot of texts..these texts are scattered here and there..like cold days with incomplete ideas.. Since when did the warmth escape from between my lines.. he ran away without telling me.. or is this my choice? In the corners of the room a lot of crazy ghosts roam.. They steal any idea that flies in the space of the room. I do not deny that they share sorrows with me.. they share this boring absence.. when will you return? Here in this small corner..I exercise absolute freedom..free from subordination to the laws of mankind..free from the constraints of customs

At this moment I want to be stripped of my soul and everything that connects me with life.. to be unknown.. completely forgotten.. Without an identity... to erase my name from existence... If I could restrict my feelings and feelings within these dimensions.. but she struggles, packs nostalgia in a suitcase and travels against my will.. with flocks of birds on a journey of death Open the door of the memory cupboard.. the wet messages fall out of it waiting for me to open them, but curiosity about me took a vacation for a while and can't come back.. I just want to lie on my couch and stare at the ceiling. This couch smells like the dead. I try to take a deep breath..but I can't..maybe the room air is not enough..or the oxygen has left it..from a hole What he's going through.. but I have to breathe to feel my presence Just for a moment.. and then I don't mind receiving death Like any person who lived and then died.. not to practice death while I am alive I open the window and the sound of the wind attacks me.. the sound of the wind hurts me.. a longing burns me.. and kills me with longing.. it carries with it the voice of the absent.. I come back in a hurry to close myself on it..

I'm breathing slowly..with difficulty..I don't Darkness sneaks into my features..we blend and become one piece..close my eyes..and have full awareness practice my daily coma..

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TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 12, June, 2021

Tshewang Norbu

He gazed the beauty with his heart, Anticipating her sympathizing glance, But tragic sadness pinched him to yearn, Her enchanting yet, down-to- earth demeanor. year I, no. 12, 2021, June

Tick-tock the time faded unnoticed, In her gravitating paradise of love, BHUTAN Fantasizing, fantasy of romanticism, His Soothing Nostalgia And embracing every moment, cherishing every dream. Untold words remained buried, Depression geared up, brooding intimacy so with a pyre of melancholic stories, rigid, Wondering to unfurl sacred secrets, Engraving star-crossed lovelorn, to her juvenile doting angel. Sandwiched in his dilemma, trauma concealing him, Alas! as he awaits for the glorious day, to mummify alive for her precious sake. to usher renewed hope of existence, But fear hindering barred his words, Oh! God was blind to pouring out from his judge, dying soul. Deaf to pour in his plea for her, Scarlet rosy roses Solemnly he begged for enveloped her beauty, his undefined love, comforting her visit as a Damn, he sacrificed his glamour of heaven, love to tragic hell. And as he rambled amidst the serene meadows, He blames not god, but his It emanated the ray of own karma, soothing fragrance. Who unlocked his own graveyard, He was captivated by her charm, To rest in peace, propitiating lords, Treasuring all her catchy disposition, to carry his message beyond her horizon. All day he stood in the courtyard, Flipping past memoirs, unmisted with love, Hence, Jeopardizing his fragile shrieking mind. Now, he sighed! In relief to remorse, For the things he haven't said, He whispered, 'I LOVE YOU' Humble he stood, mumbling in grief, In her dream, so mellow, but painful to her Sobbing his eyes, but heart. Glittering smile dazed his conscience, Leaving no nostalgia to mourn.

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 12, June, 2021

where poverty really thrives! And my thoughts often glide, on the wavy tides of a poverty stricken mind....!

Moitreyee Raju Calcutta

Impoverished Poverty is a highly cherished entity. No don't be surprised...cherished it is! 'Cause it satiates the urge for charity; For many it's even a road to sanctity. Here famine of thoughts and feelings very gleefully display their ugly peelings! Poverty's barren valley is unscrupulously left to rally, all those deep seated woes buried in its alley; Woes mired in both kind and creed and are powerful enough to make you weep! But do you weep...? At the perpetual indifference, showered with such deep reverence? Writ large in the eyes of your brethren?

Like the deep dark cloak of night when poverty enters the domain of mind, leaving it impoverished, making it appear malnourished, evergreen thoughts then sound gibberish; As if there never is a day after the night, resemblant of a dark tunnel devoid of light. It's a happening that happens in you when poverty outgrows you! Poverty creates a dreamer, the dreamer salvages the achiever. But an impoverished mind has an opium like bind, that can only trample and curtail your rise!! Sujata Paul Megha India

In Your Messy Hair Their pangs of hunger have often made me wonder, how do they muster such candor? I can sense a seething volcano within; A revolt, is what they're asking? But being quiet amidst the disquiet has been the gigantic bane of this very vast human lane. But poverty can even create trysts wherever it comes to exist; Yes, trysts with the mind ISSN 2458-0198 - ISSN-L 2458-0198

In Your Messy Hair The poetries were composed By you sitting under the mango tree, I just stared at your messy hair Which looked silky and carefree. You tried to knot them with the clip As they interrupted your writing But in yonder I never wanted the same For I could take myself far away seeing the hair through my fancy weaving. TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 12, June, 2021

Sajid Hussain Wished let them fly in the open air A thirsty mind is there to get bathed in the Pakistan silky, weavy hair, In this transitory life perhaps not possible Niceties of Difference To witness the same again Hence let's make the moment remarkable lapse of time tries to link with sequence, being jolly and fair. Scenes interchange with the vision, Tanu Vermani Kapoor

Once proceeds to forget, other to remember, Interesting are to watch or to develop, Colours of rainbow get changes for attraction,

India

A Butterfly In Me

A point of thinking makes opportunity, For a bright disposition into alien channels, Lonely daring soul in the

Clustered breath swaddled in green Amidst blossoms and aura serene Stealthily suspiring phases to survive Tweaking alterations, they aren’t too naive Cocooned in myriads of embellished dreams Silky threads of anticipation amidst glossy streams Creeping through days preparing for strife Then swathed in silk to witness all hues of life Incessantly altering, remolding steadily Incarnating anew all fragments but only bodily Soul unvaried…though semblance is new Guised in beauty with wings long due

dim rest, Ponders to unmeasure prospect of leisure, Steep

onrush

life

tortures to the current plays, Only emerging stars set distinction in the sky, Patience is for wait in monotony ,on, All

the

uplands

thoughts and curious flavour, On the screen of surprise yet to appear , Cold glare beneath edge of night, In affectionate to tender impulses, That hang in my heart and soul, What I think in the waves of gossip, Disguised in chill in rank of social position, A few solitary moments under the shades of,

year I, no. 12, 2021, June

Twilight of realities with bare footsteps. Put me on the schedule of niceties of difference.

Cleaving, exfoliating, shedding all old Leaving the past, it wasn’t like gold Unfurling kaleidoscopic wings, fluttering to try A want in my heart and hope that I could fly

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 12, June, 2021

Lakshman Kisku

India

The next person to feel pain is Sudheejan. Love just repeats itself Beat your head! Loveless love is torn in the dry tarucha of seta. Living love Living love, I will one day be lost in the void.

Loreta Toader That love was more than I was, the most In the sky of Subalpur, in the air, in the middle Germany of the heart. footprint Didn't find anything Durbisaha grief took back! The thorny path, life goes beyond the Dawn was waltzing boundaries of endurance The leaves brought me the murmur of your Living love, I will one day be lost in the void! whispers Under the bare feet I felt The flowers bloomed in the dew of translucent the middle of the young kisses leaves, I've never been happier Spring has come to my I felt so close to you mind, what I did wrong in I breathed your green my youth! breath into the night Fluffy soft petals; And exhausted longing Bumblebees sitting I've been looking for you Young stalks; The word for centuries murmur. I had given you thousands Loving mind, Manena of dreams to gather, to Kangal, Manena Dhan understand Travel has forgotten the caste and caste I had stars hanging in garlands differences. But a star, the most beautiful I kept it for your heart Dreams are colorful, the intoxication of having It was so bright and so vivid that a good time! I hugged you in my arms giving you the most Dreams are my dream, unconscious mind has beautiful smile no direction. I warmed your soul with your heart and stole The goldenness that is torn from the young a kiss from you - the morning kiss star. I am such a hetha today! Slowly, slowly, I woke up In the middle of the crowd, my love was Looks like it was just a dream spoken A dream lost in the words of a poem Samaj raft will rise today at any wharf! The imprint of a fantasy remained in my soul! I never got one like mind

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TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 12, June, 2021

from the lanes of my heart at any cost. The house where possibilities reside, where tender minds dream of India being a doctor serving poors, ◾Memories◾ being a pilot touching the limits of skies, being a writing engraving the tales of solace, & everything together with hands on hands Suddenly she clutched my wrist, with the bliss of the Gods disguised as just like before, teachers. my bracelated wrist with her grips; She grinned like blossomed flowers Bio & dragged me to catch a walk with her, to have the same two scoops of strawberry. Author Suchismita Ghoshal hails from West I sniffed the aroma of her hair, Bengal, India. At the very early age of 23, she has taking her head to my shaped her life in a way laps, where she cuddles with literature and devotes herself & just when i tried to land into finding peace through a forehead kiss, love, compassion, learning & dreams ended, & community service. shattered; memories With an academic cried. career in science till Suchismita Ghoshal

Perhaps your mind clicked on love, The passionate one, You thought it right. But my intentions are to target my words, to blend into them like dark chocolates, to embrace them with the purest desires. My verses ignite the fire on my heart & my scribblings embellish my diaries. My gypsy thoughts are free from any prisons, They shape my fascinations into a cloud, Showering the rains of my poetic dreams.

◾Abode Of My Dreams◾ Germination of my dreams, are seeded deep into the soils of my school. Never to be vaccinated, & splintered; year I, no. 12, 2021, June

With more than 520 coveted co-authorship in various renowned national & international anthologies, prestigious literary magazines, websites, webzines and eminent literary journals, she fosters to carry forward her literary career in a more prominent way. She has also authored 3 poetry books by the name of "Fields of Sonnet", “Poetries in Quarantine" & "Emotions & Tantrums".

◾Fascination◾

graduation, she is currently pursuing her masters in business administration ( MBA) from the renowned GD Goenka University in Gurgaon, Haryana. Besides that, she is a professional writer, published author, internationally acclaimed poet, literary critic, literary influencer, content writing member for WEST BENGAL UNITED NATIONS YOUTH ASSOCIATION, INTERNATIONAL ORGANISATION OF UNITED NATIONS VOLUNTEERS & HELPING HAND INTERNATIONAL ORGANISATION, change-activist & a nature lover.

Her poems have been translated into Arabic, Italian & Spanish till now. ISSN 2458-0198 – ISSN-L 2458-0198

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 12, June, 2021

Santosh Kumar Biswa

that burnishes; Away from narcissistic, to foster the godly welfare

Bhutan

My Injured Pen in Hand I wreak my pen for a ride lang syne, Across the desolate land of emptiness With my verses for greenery to bring forth. Eagles assailed me with its cruel mind To snap off my pen and to booze, its ink Never to accord my verse to hang Like the moon through the milky ways And to get snapped into pieces. Me alone, with my injured pen in hand Picking it from East, West, North and South To mend to let the ink respite in peace And to let it repand with verses so eternal More intense for the barren land to shine. My verses, through the rough wind flowed Like Ulysses's ship over the dim sea in Troy Through the hardship, so determined to ply And to defend the Greecian covetous in mind. The storm it produced subdued cruel eyes, Now the verses piled in volumes on shelves To rid those dusty eyes and to denote, I'm a winner.

that replenishes; For safe heaven, by assisting any societal problems that garnishes.

Divine Choir Not through the red rug, but the sky beam I struck the smooth flight thru' the galaxy high And my chassis near my tomb lie inculpable. The way, so pleasing, the blinking stars to see And their beamish grins to cherish my advent With divine guard of honor by angel's twins And their whispers on my ears, so dégagé. In gentleness all comets glared us in delight And the heaven's gates with their broad arms Like to a monarch to greet upon the arrival. Bracing my mother wit and the path so bright The gayety in me augmented like a semitone And the whispers satiated with discernment Of my deeds that pleased for my unveiling. The second, on my left 'bout my pristine mind

Social Service Social in itself - the mitt granted for the

indigent

God enumerates heads

Then the choir from the heaven's gate to bid

that hold the social mind

Until the common hall for the grand success

that furnishes;

And to join the choir for those left on the dirt

To the piteous poor ones

For divinity to betide for ataraxic to override.

with devout contributions ISSN 2458-0198 - ISSN-L 2458-0198

TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 12, June, 2021

With Poetry to point the Actus Reus

The Antarctic: I stand here to Heal you

The weapon of my gramps in the combat, A piercing knife that penetrated wakeless, Shaded blood as brutal as its abrupt edge. The blasé gun of my father's hand in war Impinged the guiltless bullets in the breast, Stamped out human as lethal as its veracity For the oppressed power to conquer and rule, Although treacherous, but not to get depressed. Since my nativity, many hatreds to see about

Behold! The glacier that dwell in the Antarctic, Weary not since I shored to afford my hand Among many; me alone to rid your sorrow And give you the strength never I did before. You go slender, meager in quality than ere, The bleeding, wrenchingly you flow to show Of your gloominess that exceed the bound. The sense deep inside you seems bellicose, And you robust yourself for war before time Between you and those unwise one to strike.

And no dearie to germinate among all youths For

the

Satan

intelligent to subjugate all, The man's pallid mind for their inglorious act And to translate the value that lies within love; Of human minds that cries and the life itself

Hear you, I stand here to heal you before long, Look, the saplings in my right to medicate you And wastes of unwise in my left to recycle. The banner on my bag is to aware all deaf And letters inscribed in it,

Oh mighty pen, let us work in concert to kill, But not like weapon and gun my fathers used, Best, let's kill those conceited minds of pride. I shall sharpen you like a sword, so acute, And shall drill to be precise in our survey With poetry to point the actus reus of the past And then fight to redress the mind of humans For poetry to prosper as the warrior of peace.

year I, no. 12, 2021, June

After, I'll get hold of rich ones who are deaf With this banner to let them sing desperately Close to the aggravate age to deflect soon And get to your fail-safe and their generations. I weary, they are mislaid in a materialist world, But I shall strive to barter minds and change For a brighter day to arrive and make you firm For safe Antarctic, forever as before to stand. The last chance I beg you, to seek and strive Of your goodness and for the profit of all.

your painful songs. For the selfish war that gratify the chosen one, I got a vacuum to clear the ozone for fair rays But innocents to remain roofless and squint. And the strapped one in action for your guard.

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 12, June, 2021

Sahadev Behera India

Showers the love and emotions to sprout peace and humanity. Hesitate narrowness mind and conflicts, spark the light of joy not cruelty.

A Promise to Humanity Live and let live, respect elders and love each other, Service to mankind is service to God, Being we are the children of a lovely We the people live with a family world . Without discrimination of sex, caste, creed and magnanimous mother. colour, Biography Respect to everyone and love to each other . Dr. Sahadev Behera is a Govt. Elementary Don't be confused ,be sure, take a promise to teacher. He has published more than 7 nos of ensure, educational books. He has The world is lovely, sweet written story, prose and more and soft like dove's than 500 poems in Odia, English abd Bengali language. feather.

All brothers and sisters, we are very dearer and nearer We are the sons and daughters as a family member.

He has Received so many awards from different literary forum throughout nation and abroad.

Name Sahadev Behera, Date of birth- 15/031973 At -Mangarajpur, po Sadang, via - Manjuriroad. Qualification.M.A, B.Ed, DSEVH, ProfessionGovt. Teacher; Hobby Reading, writing, listening music,

Change your attitude, be positive towards others feeling and emotion, Share your happiness and joy with friends in Experience - Poet, social activist, international World's perception. ambassador of peace. Member of United Nations Organisation and many more international organisations. Received Honorary Doctorate. And many more international certificates, awards.

Eradicate illiteracy, terrorism , blind believes, social taboos, war and curruption, Published -More than 7books in regional Brotherhoodness and humanity formulate language. peace, tranquility as a social integration.

More than 500 articles have published in different international anthology .

Every corner of the world blows the breezing Language Known-Odia ,English, Bengali, Hindi. wind, Responsibility -Moderator and Administrator Unites us and germinates in the whole world, of different international forum of literature. love, happiness, peace and kind.

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 12, June, 2021

Ali Jafaroglu Azerbaijan

Captive eyes (Story) From the doors from the eyes, full of melancholy, looking at their home, large tears poured onto the roses, red as blood, peeking out near their feet. The beautiful flowers were saddened by the influence of falling tears, they were restlessly examining everything around them, as if anticipating some amazing and terrible event. With very early gray hair, with large and exhausted eyes falling into a hole, with a faded face, a tall and slightly thin man was suffocating from the sad thoughts he had endured. These disturbing thoughts peeped openly from the face. From the news he had just heard, he was so affected that the brains were deprived of the ability to understand and condemn what was happening. Saying goodbye to years of longing, only now I found the opportunity to get to my native land. During the Great Patriotic War, after being wounded, he was captured, since then his love for the Motherland has never left him. Even in the most difficult moments, being face to face with death, faith and love for life did not lose human will. However, it is a pity that this separation lasted neither less nor more, exactly sixteen years. year I, no. 12, 2021, June

The bus, which left Baku at midnight, arrived in time in the center of the district in the morning. He got off the bus. To find a car in his native village, he walked with wide steps to the minibus. Finally, seeing the bus, he entered, sat down in one of the seats in the last row and looked out the window, observing the surrounding home world. The bus station was moved to the southern part of the city and improved. Here, trees planted in one row and significantly grown, in this summer heat, with their wide leaves, protected a person from the burning sun's rays. Sometimes a weak breeze made the leaves move, with joy and delight, as if he had opened his wings and wanted to fly. Conversations with a loud voice, the voices of passers-by, the sounds of cars created a landscape with mixed noise. Finally, a few minutes later the bus left the territory of the bus station. Driving past the new park, for a moment I saw the erected monument. No matter how hard I tried, I could not remember this monument. Probably built later, he thought. The sight of this knight, with the pick raised up, resembled the image in the work of the great Azerbaijani writer Nizami Ganjavi "Khosrov and Shirin", where Farkhad, in love with Shirin, breaks through the rocks of Mount Bisutun. But I considered it unnecessary to ask others about it. Because, it was planned in advance not to reveal his identity to anyone. Only after he learns detailed information about family and friends, he can reveal his identity.

prose 27-30

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 12, June, 2021

station, slowly drove towards the village, ”said the father, instructed his wife, Amina, to which for many years has been eager to see. bring his old belt. Meeting with family and friends caused a heartbeat. Inwardly, I endured a feeling of anxiety. Turning his heart into a granite monument and worn out for years, like a withering flower with a dream not to dry out, he dreamed of getting to the other side of the Agstafa River.

Amina looked and found a belt in the closet and gave it to her son. The belt fell long, and my father cut off a part with a knife, opened new holes in the belt with a small awl.

Brother Rahman stood aside and also examined him. After that, the pants fit him. A starched white shirt, as if it had just been Breathing deeply, drawing a pleasant bought. scent into the mud, he looked out the window, – Ahmed, son, how they suit you, - said trying to brand all the changes in his memory. the mother, leaning her son to her chest and Suddenly I remembered the wonderful kissed him. moments left in childhood. He felt like a child. One autumn day, being taller than relatives, thin, happily walked along a muddy road towards the center of the district.

Although his feet were muddy, his clothes were soiled, he laughed happy, doubly glad that his mother would buy a new suit for him at the collective farm market. He thought, “I'll show my classmates to see my new clothes. Although my brother's white shirt had a worn collar on me, my mother wrapped it in the opposite direction and sewed it up, a little larger, with new trousers. Bast shoes are still normal, while you can get by. "

These pleasant feelings filled his soul with delight. It was such a feeling that no other force could buy at any other time.

The fact that he would soon meet his father, mother, brother, life partner Gatiba and his only son Huseyn seemed to inspire him, and he tried to fly. At first he promised himself that he would not ask anyone for anything. But he could not stand it when the bus drove up to a strip of forest, asked a person who was sitting and at one time deserving respect, named David, who had grown much older.

– Excuse me, uncle, where is Amiraslan's That same evening, putting on new house in this village? clothes, he showed everything to his father: The man looked with surprise at the – Look, dad, how beautiful, - having said unfamiliar face: with joy, he added. I love the color blue. " – Son, you are probably not from here? Father, Amiraslan, examining his son After these words, Ahmed did not know from top to bottom: what to answer. After a little thought, he said: – Yes, sonny, fits well, only a little of the – I came to visit; - stepped aside his face trousers fall off at the back. You need a belt, so that they would not suspect anything.

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TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 12, June, 2021

– Yes ..., - David said, took a deep breath. and sympathy to the interlocutor, saying that May God punish those who started the war. he was a good person. Ahmed thought deeply. I didn’t believe The cause of all troubles, difficulties, death of that I would face such terrible news yet. The people is the war. How many courageous death of his father stunned him. But, having people have not returned from the front. Families were left with the tears of a widow endured, he hid his feelings. without a husband, children - without a father. – And his life partner, aunt Amina, is still The Amiraslan family was also destroyed by alive? he asked in concern. Uncle David knew the war, son. The eldest son Rahman became a from experience that he cripple, turned into a bed had greatly disturbed the patient. It's good that guest. I decided not to say there is a wonderful life a word. I was surprised at companion, a real person, one why the guest was she takes good care of not aware of the lifestyle him. For themselves, next of these people. to their father's house, – Amina was one of they built a new house for the honest women. But it themselves. They have has been three years since two children and go to I gave my soul to God. I school. And the son of could not stand it after the Amiraslan, Ahmed, did death of her man. They not return from the war. yearned for their son Ahmed, grieved. His wife, Gatiba, had been waiting for him for Although black news came, they did not many years. Blameless and decent, this believe it, they continued to wait for him. How woman has gone through hardships and many did not calm them down, it was all in hardships. All the time she said that Ahmed vain. The poor fellows, from the painful would return, even though it was late, but he longing for their son, gave their souls. May the would still return. You yourself know, son, it is earth rest in peace to them; he said with difficult for one woman to remain. There can patience. be rumors in her name, loneliness breaks the Ahmed could no longer endure listening heart, she has to go for any business herself, to David. Sick in the brain. Sacred dreams, sells crops at the bazaar, buys something for breaking, were shattered to smithereens. the house. After the death of her father-in-law Somehow he came to his senses and hurried to and mother-in-law, she was forced to raise her only son, Huseyn. Since Amiraslan and Amina learn about the fate of his wife and son. – Son, how do you not know this? - finally wanted Gatiba to rebuild a family for herself, Amina could not resist this and, finally, asked the old man. arranged a family life with Bakir, an year I, no. 12, 2021, June

Uncle David examined him from top to “Ahsakkal, my father was friends with bottom and carefully said: Amiraslan, “Ahmed was forced to lie. I knew – Son, and you do not know that this man that my father sometimes took them to Ganja to sell fruits. As if he was also from Ganja, and died long ago. After these words, he expressed regret on behalf of his father came to these places.

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 12, June, 2021

agronomist of the collective farm. Now they live together in Amiraslan's house. Bakir looks after the son of Gatiba as if he were his own. They live very amicably. Huseyn will soon graduate from school.

thirst, capture and prison life, endured so many terrible and unbearable trials, but was never unshakable. Oh my God! What a day ?! My grief is higher than mountains, deeper than rivers, - he fell into thoughtfulness, leafing The weather was too hot. There were a through the pages of a book of a painful life he lot of people on the bus, so it was impossible lived. to breathe. At the same time, the bus was filled Like many others, I volunteered for the with dust. On the other hand, even in a dream, war against the German fascists. In one of the the impossible, terrible news enveloped his heavy battles, an enemy shell exploded, heart. As if something inside was broken. All wounded me in the head, and many parts of thoughts were confused in his head, as if sweat my body were damaged by shrapnel. In that of regret swept over him. Death, loved ones, 1943 year, in the fall, after being wounded, the life partner married another, all this changed Nazis took me prisoner. This was the his mood. What his only beginning of a martyr's son calls another man's captive life. I do not wish father makes him sad and this to anyone. First in suffocates him. Büchenwald, then in the prison camp of Osvensija He recalled a letter until the end of the war he to Gatiba written from the lived a life of torment. If Baltic region. In 1943. In you can say that this is the same year, when life. Before losing their there was a bloody battle strength, they forced the there, he was mortally prisoners to work, shot wounded. For two those who could not months he was treated in work, burned them alive a hospital and almost died. During that terrible period, when the in blast furnaces, put them on a chair, tied battle was not for life, but for death, he asked them up, gave electricity to the body, gave us a man from the Tauz district, named Asker, to terrible inhuman torment. Defeated in World write a letter to the family with the following War II, the Nazis exterminated millions of people of different nationalities. I turned my content: "If I cannot return to my homeland safe will into steel, iron, withstood. I prayed to God and sound, marry a man worthier than me, to stay alive.

more honest than me, and was taller than me in everything." Now, when he thought about it, sadness overcame him, burned out from internal torment, endured anxiety. Eh! Why did my destiny turn out this way? How many suffered torments and sufferings, bloody days of war, hunger and ISSN 2458-0198 - ISSN-L 2458-0198

After the defeat of Japan, when the deadly terrible war ended, which brought death to millions, I was forced to live with the same German family. This family did not torment me so much, sometimes they showed concern, they respected my feelings. I also knew that upon returning home from captivity, they would arrest me and treat my family badly. So, despite the fact that at first I TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 12, June, 2021

– Well, son, we got there! - said Uncle David.

remembering childhood, youth, a brief family life, he stood in front of his home. Covering his face with both hands, he sobbed all the way until his heart was relieved. Then I came to my senses a little. So that passers-by would not suspect anything, he took out a handkerchief, wiped away his tears and looked attentively at the house. The house was the same, except that the walls were whitewashed, the windows were painted, and the house was covered with ceramite. The stall for livestock has not changed, the chicken coop for poultry has been slightly enlarged. The canopy boards were finished by him, the vineyard was planted by himself. A wide-leafed vineyard covered the surface of the canopy. A counter and a table were placed below. The mulberry tree planted by my father sheltered from the sun's rays. He recalled how, bending a little tree branch, ate tutu, sang songs, rejoiced with the guys.

Ahmed was suddenly startled. He raised his head and Tears appeared in his eyes from sadness, looked at the old man. The old man was looking at the trees, he did not want to leave. waiting for him to get off the bus. – Look, here is Amiraslan's house, the old He saw the roof, which he himself built for stacking firewood, when he was in school, he man pointed out. remembered how he wounded his finger then, – Thanks! - Ahmed said somehow. hammering in a nail with a hammer. His father Leaving the bus, I waited for it to start. I scolded him for working alone, advised him to didn't want to go home any more. I thought ask his brother or friends for help. that all ties with his home were cut off. He did Then Amina, calming her husband, said: not want to destroy his wife's new family. – What do you want from the poor child? True, he was very nervous, endured anxious moments. In the depths of his heart, he also The firewood gets wet in the rain and snow, so thought that everything that happened to him the boy tries not to get wet. Father said: I'm nervous because he works without was fate. Suddenly, independently of himself, he help, and this job is not for one person. cried violently. Tears flowed like a mudflow, Amiraslan raised his hand up, no sound. He year I, no. 12, 2021, June

did not want to return home, but longing for the Motherland, to see my relatives and family, my village, this dream took up. Believing in Stalin's call for amnesty, he decided to leave Germany. I lived in a remote village in the city of Dresden, the owner of the mansion insisted that I not leave, found myself a family, and for this they would provide me with the necessary help, then you will repent. But I am not believed him, disobeyed his advice, and returned to the USSR in 1946. I was arrested at the border. Over the years, I had to endure when I saw my family and friends. At home they knew nothing about me. He covered a long way to Baku. Once again he was overwhelmed by the joy that he would see his relatives. I thought that he would forget all the torments and, like others, live a calm life.

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also raised the other, hit his hand on the arm, pulses increased. heard a sound. You see Amin, it's not for “What kind of meeting is this, God ?!” the nothing that the fathers said: "Not a sound thought passed through my head for a from one hand." moment. Arriving in his native village, he Son, to work, when you need help, call heard about the death of his father and others for help. mother. For many years of childhood and These words, as if carved in the memory youth, with an extreme dream of getting home, he could not get there, like a prisoner, furtively of Ahmed. On the right side of the house there was glanced around, asked in a caring manner: – Son, do you live in this house? a bedroom, where once there were love affairs with Gatiba. They loved each other very much. – Uncle, this is our house, - the young Gatiba's father immediately agreed to marry man answered with restraint, assuming a his daughter to Ahmed. Ahmed was a caring look: handsome and decent young man. He was “You seem to be always engaged in useful feeling bad? - said and work, helped his father invited the guest into the and mother, friends in house: everything. His wife gave – Thank you, son, it birth to a beautiful boy for became a little bad, him. The birth of a child Ahmed answered sadly. brought happiness to the – Uncle, go into the house. house, - the youth Ahmed, hearing the persisted. conversation from the – No, sonny, what is side, quickly looked back. your name? Three young people, – Huseyn. talking, walked in his After these words, a feeling of fear direction. He wanted to show that he had nothing to do with this house. So he bent down passed through my heart. He staggered and wiped the hem of his trousers and unconsciously. Barely kept himself from hesitated a little. When he straightened up, he falling to the ground. As if for a moment this saw in front of him a tall, full body, with desired meeting with my son made me forget chestnut eyes, a friendly gaze, a shirt with all the torments. How much he had expected short sleeves and a teenager wearing blue these happy minutes, how much he had to endure for the sake of this day. Although that trousers standing over his head. – Uncle, what happened to you? Who are happy moment was near to hug her only beloved son, it was impossible. Only with a sad you looking for? the teenager asked. look and gaze, accustomed in captivity, did he Ahmed heard a pleasant voice and was examine his son. Raising his right hand and very worried. He examined the young man. lightly putting it on his son's shoulder, he said Top down. As if the structure of his face was with speed: like that of Ahmed. The son was very similar to – Oh god, how did you grow up son. his father. The heartbeat intensified, the

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TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 12, June, 2021

When I saw you, you were two years old.

of his son and wife. To the rural people, how The boy looked at the stranger in could he explain that he was not guilty ?! The people will ask: "Could you write a few lines?" surprise: – Uncle, I don’t know Ias, you seem to be I, branded as an enemy of the people, no one the first time in our village? - asked the young would have believed that all rights had been taken away, on the contrary, they would have man. accused me. Ahmed followed every word and The son tried to continue the movement of his son and tried to remember conversation he had just heard: forever. – Uncle, I love my mother very much. – I used to be often in your house, son. Damn Hitler and all fascists! How many Because of me, she threw herself into fire and innocent people died, how many houses were flames. My father's spirit is always with me. We destroyed, families were left without a head. have been waiting for his return for a long For the first time after the time. Enlarged a war, I am in a village. photograph in military Unable to withstand uniform sent from the the alarm, he opened the war, hung in the living shirt button and asked. " room. Where is your father?

He was embarrassed and replied: – Uncle, my father died in the war. According to what was said, he fought in the Baltic States, fought heroically. Even after his death, he was awarded the medal "For Courage!" Mother kept the black news to this day. I am the son of Achmed Aleskerov!

Each time I open my eyes, I look at the photograph and talk to him. For several years now, my mother has arranged a family with another person.

She did it out of the stubbornness of her grandparents. Uncle Bakir, although not my own father, is a good man. He is always polite with me, on friendly terms, I always respect him.

He has no children, so he considers me Ahmed, proud of these words, stroked family. Grandmother and grandfather died the young man's head: early, unable to bear the death of their son – Son, I'm sorry, I didn't know about it. I Ahmed. know your father well. I loved him very much, I have always dreamed of being a hero as a brother, this good-natured person, at the same time our fathers were close friends, like my father. Therefore, I gave documents to the Military Academy, I will try to become a ”having said, he had to lie. Otherwise, the secret would have been revealed, and Gatiba's professional military man in order to protect further fate would have been annoying. the Motherland from inveterate enemies. Ahmed was a little alarmed by the Therefore, Ahmed did not want to ruin the life year I, no. 12, 2021, June

"The young man did not expect such a question from him.

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lordship of his son's words. Ahmed especially liked his patriotism and deep love for the Motherland. At the same time, his memory of his father, calling his name with pride, as if lifted him into heaven. The step that Gatiboy took was the dream of Amiraslan and Tarlan, and even the result of his desire in the last letter. Parents left this world, if Gatiba would not arrange a new family, how would a lonely one live, after all, my brother is also sick and crippled ?! - passed through my head.

Noorullah khattak Pakistan

In love with round figures Getting tired with straight paths, straight lines and straightforward behavior, the writer opted to get complicatedly tactful. In the past, Simplicity and straightforward ways of life carried our elders in rural mode of life.

He turned his face to his son and said Now in this age of constantly shrinking goodbye to him: space and time , behavioral lines have turned – Goodbye, son, I expected these words full circle. To stay relevant in our fast time, one must be good in double from you. I believe that all talk, situation- related dreams will come true, expressions and changing you will vigilantly stand modes and ideas from guard over the place to place. The word Motherland, - having used for this ability is uttered these words, he "Savoir faire" (literally = embraced his only son for knowing how to do) in the first and last time for English. him, pressed him to his chest and kissed him. This When I turned how kiss, even for a moment, to theorize this made it possible to forget bevaviorial ability, I everything that had been stumbled on the phrase: lived through martyrdom. Now he calmly, not "well rounded personality". looking back, although he did not know what But this was not something new. It could awaited him ahead, regardless of this he could be found in the 7 rounds of circumbulation (= return, where a new fate awaited him. Because tawaf). Pilgrims dressed in patch of white a faithful and decent son of Azerbaijan lived cloth nimbly walk around kaba sharif. and grew up in his home. Perhaps, this is the lesson for believers to

With a proud glance, Ahmed looked at his son for the last time, at the house where he lived before, began to return back, confident in his dreams.

evolve diplomatic and clever while defending themselves from scheming jews and hypocritical non-muslims right from the dawn of Islam in 7th century.

At this time, a familiar and familiar voice Mathematicians used roundness for was heard from the yard: cross-checking calculations. States Diplomats used roundness for words that can be – Who are you talking to, son? reinterpreted differently later. Did he bring news from his father? Translated by Marjeta Shatro Rrapaj

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Clever people in State and Society turned TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 12, June, 2021

"roundness" into hypocrisy. The speech and The mistake is that we do not have the words of all these people can be summed up in courage to express our opinion frankly spotless urdu as " gol mol baat and jawab". The The mistake is to paint a civilized picture best and brilliant of people even known how of yourself that has nothing to do with the to link round things into a complex whole to features of your real personality. stay and work formidably. Challenge yourself a bit and try to sit in When all this has become a norm in front of a mirror and stare at it for a long time human societies, what is option of defensive Even if curiosity kills you and you open and offensive behaviour??? your insight for a while, you will not recognize The answer is to stay and behave in the character in it "Concentric way". Be complex as much as you What we fall into now and what draws us can to overwhelm the roundness of thugs, to the bottom of our thinking is the selfish ego ruffians and tricksters in society. rooted in our thoughts Let your personality and growth be How can the world "Wheel within wheel" to recognize us as a literary fend off the human fact when we do not have enmity and moves of the slightest ability, which deception. is to express freely ... The time of simple walk, talk and solemn word is over now. It is "Roundness" that is a fashion. The growth is now measured not only in rounded ability but interlinking the round things in right frame of formation.

Malak Nora Hammadi Algeria

expressing an opinion and discussing the other opinion There is only one truth to be spent on...which is to run with ideas backwards...and they are given the idea that we do not agree on any opinion. And they like the idea of divide and conquer... We do not suffer from any colonialism ... nor any external oppression

psychological comfort... unless we have the That you haven't eaten anything for a ability to eradicate some convictions that wear certain time, it is not necessary that you are the mantle of tradition. now hungry...

Only we were the ones who caused the Colonial thoughts ... when do we knock on the door of cultivation of colonialism with our thoughts We will not find the way to freedom and terrible silence

It is never wrong to say something unusual year I, no. 12, 2021, June

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 12, June, 2021

essay 36-35

Jesús Coromoto Olivares

Tamara Čapelj - Šahdo Bošnjak Bosna i Hercegovina;

Venezuela/Ecuador

Reflection: No racism

No racism Sometimes we can have black and white thoughts, but when we are dealing with

KATEGORIJA: recenzija zbirke dječije poezije; , pjesnikinja

humans, let's change our suffering, let's see

Sličice iza sklopljenih očiju

ourselves as brothers, to change this world, which is spoiled. We cannot consent to

continue

mistreated,

being whoever

wants to live without any discrimination,

which

perhaps as a fortune, carries;

that

beautiful

color like a moonless night, and that gives tone to his skin. Let's live very harmoniously with everyone around us, nature knew does not look, no distinction, when judging, if the person is beautiful or that person is ugly. Hug me, my brother, do it with good will, so that hatred will go away and evil will not exist. If we all obey, the Creator will reward

Recenzija za zbirku dečije poezije Šahde Bošnjaka – kad bi djeca imala planetu

you!

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Želite li se vratiti za trenutak u djetinjstvo? Ako želite, prvo što ćete učiniti je sklopiti oči i čekati da u svijesti iskoče sličice, mali bljeskovi sjećanja iz vremena upoznavanja svijeta. Sklopljenih očiju, listat ćete šarenu slikovnicu života satkanu od trenutaka koji su ostavili najveći pečat na vas. Upravo je to učinio i Šahdo Bošnjak u ovoj zbirci pjesama, nazivajući svaku pjesmu sličicom koju je naslikao riječima. I bez obzira na to jesu li ove pjesme sličice iz vremena njegovog odrastanja ili je u njima sadržano znanje prosvjetnog radnika i pedagoga koji je život posvetio radu s djecom, njihova vrijednost je upravo u tom slikanju dječije stvarnosti stihovima – ili književnoteorijski rečeno – u pjesničkim slikama svijeta viđenih očima djeteta. U ovim pjesmama otkriva se upravo taj dječiji svijet, a pjesnik nas stihovima podsjeća na ono što je djeci važno: roditelje i obitelj, bližu društvenu okolinu koja utječe na formiranje stavova, omiljena mjesta za igru i značaj same igre kao pripreme za život, TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 12, June, 2021

Sporednim likovima ne zna se ni broja. Tu su: hodža i učitelj, pa bosanski kralj sevdaha i pratizanski maršal, pa brazilski kralj fudbala i argentinski revolucionar, pa američki predsjednik i španski general, pa krava Dikulja i kobila Zeka i na kraju djed i baka moja. Na taj način on širi spoznajnu razinu iz bliskog okruženja na cijeli svijet, potičući djecu da crpe duhovnost iz svih izvora koji je nude, a time ih ujedno uči toleranciji. U „Sličicama o djetinjstvu“, koje su ujedno i drugi ciklus pjesama u ovoj stihozbirci, autor progovara o onome što je važno djeci, te imamo i humoristične pjesme o dječijim vragolijama, ali i vrlo nadahnute pjesme s univerzalnom porukom i razigranom maštom. Tako će se svi slatko nasmijati uspavanoj Selmi koja se nije pripremila za odgovaranje u školi ili o tome gdje djeca vole ostaviti svoj pečat – prvi crtež na koricama knjiga. Ali i kako ti poduhvati završe. Ili koliko djeci znače igra i rođendanski poklon. Čitajući ih, i odrasli se mogu zapitati jesu li izgubili iz vida ono što je važno djeci i živi li u njima još uvijek dijete. Možda je najbolji odgovor na ova pitanja jedna strofa iz pjesme “Djeca mira”:

Naravno, pjesme o vlastitom djetinjstvu i odrastanju izlaze izvan okvira prvog ciklusa nazvanog „Sličice iz mog djetinjstva“, u kojem je pjesnik progovorio o svemu onome što je ostavilo trajni pečat na njegovoj duši. Iskustvene pjesme pronaći ćemo i u ostala četiri ciklusa, koji su motivski podijeljeni na pjesme o djetinjstvu općenito, o prirodi, o životinjama te o ljubavi, prijateljstvu, školskim danima i čistom okolišu. U prvom ciklusu pjesnik progovara o odrastanju na selu i omogućava uvid u život dječaka okruženog prirodom, životinjama i ljudima koji od jutra do večeri naporno rade u potpunom skladu s prirodom. Zato pjesnik kaže da su glavni likovi njegovog dječijeg Kad bi djeca na brodovima svijeta zapravo njegovi otac i majka, te poetski bila zapovjednici prvog reda, umjesto mina i torpeda nastavlja: prevozila bi tegle meda. year I, no. 12, 2021, June

vršnjake s kojima dijete provodi slobodno vrijeme, školu kao najveću djetetovu obavezu, uzore i junake s kojima se dijete poistovjećuje – a što također bitno utječe na formiranje njegove ličnosti, samim time i važnost umjetnosti, posebno književnosti, za širenje vidika i usvajanje vrijednosnih sudova, prva iskustva i susrete s nečim novim za dijete kao što je prvi odlazak u kino, način na koji dijete uči razlučiti dobro i zlo te upoznaje svijet, zavičaj i društvene norme koje dijete usvaja, ali i ljubav i prijateljstvo kao vječne kategorije. Pritom se izdvajaju dva načina na koji pjesnik ponire u dubinu djetetova svijeta: prvi je u pjesmama o svojem djetinjstvu i iskustvima u odrastanju, a drugi je kada iz pjesnika progovara pedagog te pjesme postaju male stihovane priče s univerzalnom porukom.

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 12, June, 2021

Pjesme posvećene prirodi su poetski udžbenici iz poznavanja prirode, u kojima pjesnik nastoji na umjetnički način približiti djeci prirodu i pojave u njoj. Zato on duhovito pjeva o godišnjim dobima, nebeskim tijelima, biljkama iz našeg okruženja, prirodnim pojavama i povezanosti svih živih bića u njoj, pri čemu svatko ima svoju ulogu. Jer, kako pjesnik kaže, da nema trave, Zemlja bi bila ogromna, ružna, ćelava glava, a da nema cvijeća, svijet ne bi bio tako šareno i lijepo mjesto, ujedno poručujući da je i vjetar itekako važan u prirodi i ima svoja „zaduženja“.

Ljubav ima nevjerovatno čudesnu moć: da miri najljuće neprijatelje, da ispunjava najskrivenije želje, da velikodušno prašta učinjeno zlo. Recite mi: ko još na svijetu može to?

Naročito snažnu odgojnu poruku imaju pjesme o čistom okolišu. Pjesnik svojim stihovima kazuje djeci da je priroda zapravo čovjekov prostor za život u kojem se osjeća najslobodnije. Stoga je očuvanje okoliša presudno za život ljudi. Čovjek koji osjeća Posebno su djeci bliske pjesme o prirodu i živi u potpunoj harmoniji s njom životinjama, u kojima im autor približava može očuvati zrdravim životinje, njihov način svoje tijelo i duh. života i važnost za Recimo i nekoliko čovjeka. Ove pjesme riječi o jeziku kojim je obiluju onomatopejama i napisana ova zbirka alegorijama, te su pjesama. On je živ, posebno važne na razumljiv i prilagođen obraznovnoj razini. djeci, s elementima Pjesnik je na djeci lokalnog govora koji prijemčiv način približio obogaćuju književni mačka, šišmiše, leptire, bosanski jezik. Poezija vjevericu, fazana, cvrčka, Šahde Bošnjaka obiluje zeca, lastavicu, glistu, stilskim figurama stonogu, pače, ali i (alegorije, metafore, poskoka. Pišući o životinjama, pjesnik poučava usporedbe, asonance, aliteracije, onomatopeje djecu o tome kako da postupaju prema njima i itd.), rimom, jasnim pjesničkim slikama koje da ih se bezrazložno ne boje, ali i da male počivaju na pojmovima bliskim djeci i životinje imaju veoma važnu ulogu u prirodi, maštovitim konotacijama pa djeca mogu crpiti pa i za čovjeka. Također, piše o životinjama iz njih poruke o ljubavi, razumijevanju, koje djeca mogu vidjeti u svojem zavičaju, te marljivosti, dobroti, poštovanju, ljepoti i tako širi njihova znanja o prirodnim važnosti zavičaja i prirode koja nas okružuje. bogatstvima naše zemlje. Pojedine pjesme, Zanimljive su i kratke priče ili bolje reći – poput one o neposlušnom pačetu, zapravo su pjesme u prozi, koje pronalazimo unutar male alegorije koje govore djeci o životu. prvog ciklusa. U njima pjesnik živopisno Posebno su zanimljive pjesme posvećene đačkim ljubavima, prijateljstvima i čistom okolišu. Njima pjesnik poručuje da svaki čovjek, bio on mali ili odrastao, ima dovoljno mjesta za ljubav u srcu i da ga to čini uzvišenim, ali i da je ljubav sastavni dio života:

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opisuje kako dijete stječe nova iskustva koja ostaju u njemu urezana za čitav život. S obzirom na biranu motivsku potku i maštovitu osnovu ovih pjesama, ali i njihovu lirsku univerzalnost, smatram da će ova knjiga naći posebno mjesto u srcima malih čitatelja. TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 12, June, 2021

confabulation 39-46

Lenuş Lungu

International Taiphas Literary Department and the International Writers' Forum. Among international poets, he was

Biography Maruf Sheikh awarded the "Golden Pledges" by Syrian Maruf Sheikh, a "dark-minded thinker", was born on Tuesday, October 8, 1991, to a middle-class family. He is the youngest son of parents. Baba was a freedom fighter and an officer as chief superintendent / chief chemist.

international writer Daniel's blogger, and among Syrian poets. Samar Bhowmik also honored him according to the certificate.

People seek the habit of living around their loved ones at the turn of life. But when their loved ones leave Maruf Sheikh Under the Bangladesh Chemical unattended, he is alone, but he is happy to be Industries, in the residential area of Maruf in the crowd of the outside world. Sheikh's birthplace, in the officers' colony of Michelle Araujo de Silva Maria, a the North Bengal Paper Mill, in the D3 Brazilian citizen who was loved by the author, building, he was a quiet was lost by the author due writer from an early age. to his mistake, and the She was inspired by her author continues to father's writing, and her search for Michelle, a older sister sang. Seeing Brazilian citizen, through all this, he started writing his poems. He is honored from a young age in class by the Albanian Literary five. Department.

He started writing poems in local and daily newspapers. He was loved by journalists as a human being. Then in 2016, a lyric poem written by him was released in the first song album. The album of songs was the solo album of Shraddhey Rupel Islam, the singer of Bangladesh BTV. The song number 10 was written by Maruf Sheikh. In 2021, he was honored as the "Ambassador of World Peace" by the year I, no. 12, 2021, June

He is basically a real speaker, a tragic love story that makes his writing startling. He was highly educated, graduated from Dhaka University with a bachelor's and master's degree in Bangla, was a candidate for the 52nd convocation of Dhaka University. He studied Commerce all his life. She is a mother fan. He is a simple man. He has lived in the city all his life and grew up in a residential area because of his father's job. His grandfather's home is in Rajshahi, he is currently working. Ishwardi, Pabna is his own home.

When he got up in class six, he lost his father forever. Since then no relatives have come to cooperate in their day of danger. Maruf Sheikh seemed to realize "What is pain, what is loneliness? How much does reality like to peek? Why are people so lonely? Why this vengeance and neglect and selfishness? Is this the main pillar?"

(Biography).

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 12, June, 2021

The Expectation Professor Abbas Jamal. Strategic Planning Consultant

One day , Come to the threshold of this dark mind; Your light shadow will reach.

Children... a generation lost...!!

The surroundings are very dark. I can not get rid of the vacuum I live with the body of light. I can not see the appearance of smoky bags. Live like this permanently ….

A few years ago, the scenes spread across international satellite TV screens were the image of Somali children most commonly circulated with skeletons and very emaciated bodies due to poverty and deprivation of the Nevertheless, darkness reaches the threshold most basic human needs, which helped to of the mind, increase the number of Someone's foot suddenly deaths daily from these stops. innocent children, despite the efforts and endeavors One day , made to improve and Come to the threshold of protect this childhood this dark mind; except The accelerating Your light shadow will events here and there did reach. not succeed in the official institutions and humanitarian bodies in This hope is far from the achieving their lofty goals mind; to protect the rights of the The mind wants to see the child.. which worsened during the so-called end, “Arab Spring” in some countries, due to its artificial storms that also destroyed the fertile That one day I will see you up close. environment for the sound and normal social … upbringing of children “Generations” due to instability, waves of political violence and crises of civil wars on the one hand, and the weakness of following up on the design and implementation of comprehensive development plans to build the person and the homeland on the other hand...! All those accumulations have produced today a "fuel tank of youth"...! And a “energy tank of children” ..! The

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conditions

accompanying

the

TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 12, June, 2021

Corona virus increased its intensity and the danger of its explosion, the outcome of the forced closure procedures and the deteriorating psychological conditions... at a stage that translates "the alliance of the deadly epidemic with the epidemics of the policy of miserable regimes"...!! I say to one of the young people of the new tank... My dear respected one, how miserable it is for someone who was destined to be born in a great country... inhabited by losers and thieves who create misery and plots...! Perhaps from bad luck.. the young man says.. after he lived and grew up between endless conspiracies and struggles... and continuous crises... children were always the victims in them.. because of many tragedies, the first of which is malnutrition.. the absence of health care.. oppression Poverty.. Hunger.. Disease.. Ignorance.. Begging.. Underdevelopment.. Forced work.. It is slow death.. After they are recruited to be a fuel tank of war between violent gangs, criminality and terrorism.. Or time bombs ready to explode among the people. Or between segments of society...!!

diseases... loss... school dropouts... homelessness... and other pests known to you... all of this will negatively affect the future of the countries and the nation... ! In light of the continuation of fragility and superficial policies in addressing the gaps of families and schools.. activating the role of national and local bodies concerned with the promotion and protection of children.. and supporting facilities for proper socialization.. in addition to draining the swamps of exploitation of children of both sexes.. and ensuring the provision of comprehensive care.. through Official attention is given to this category that needs to review and update its legislation within the package of texts proposed before the new parliament..and activate it like the “Child Welfare Law” in civilized countries..provided that the misery makers give up their ambitions for the sake of their children and countrymen…before they Successive generations become lost..and go to the country..(in the Algerian vernacular)..God forbid..! I thank you for your supportive development efforts. Written by Professor Abbas Jamal. Strategic planning advisor.

They are statistics of models about the reality of the reality of the children, "men and freedom fighters of the future" who are threatened with annihilation... due to year I, no. 12, 2021, June

According to what was stated in a recent UNICEF report, it confirms the very shocking and terrifying situation of childhood in some Arab countries, such as the children of Lebanon, Iraq, Libya, Yemen and other North Africans..!

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 12, June, 2021

Ali Jafaroglu

dumbfounded from fatigue.

The man leaned against the ground. With The tree of Life a heavy gaze, he looked into the distance, into endless space. Looking at the sky, I saw the galaxy. As if from the ancient beliefs of the (story) Egyptians, the remaining, imprinted in the sky, the heavenly cow was reflected high. One tree has grown in a hot and dry area. How much I slept, I did not remember. This tree has climbed much, high. There were The sun has risen. He saw a dark spot in the so many leaves that there was a shadow all distance. He, gathering all his strength, around. Every time the sun warmed him, he crawled in that direction. was disappointed, because no one caressed After hard torment, he reached the him, did not care for him. circumference of the tree. The shade of the The tree, from loneliness, considered it tree brought coolness to him. He, lying down, useless that it grew here. I drank a lot of water from dreamed that it would be a puddle and from better to be a small shrub, powerlessness was for a but to have tall trees long time without nearby. For birds to sit on memory. its branches, for people to The tree was a little rest in its shade. overjoyed at the man. It The tree shed bitter stretched its branches to tears. We cried so much a puddle, watered the face that a transparent puddle of a man with its leaves. formed around. Then, trembling like a Days and months light breeze, he gave the pass, the seasons replace man breath. each other. The frost and cold of winter freeze The tree, the man's watchman, did not the puddle, the spring rain fills it, it trembles sleep all night. from the autumn wind, evaporates from the With dawn, the darkness went far away. hot summer. Everything goes on as usual, no Everything was covered with a milky color. change has taken place. The tree, bored from The man opened his eyes. Gradually he loneliness, was disappointed, heart ached got to his feet. He opened his arms and from sadness. breathed in fresh air. After yawning a little, he Hearing some rustle or noise, the tree, raised his head up, examined the tree with his startled, raised its head higher, the heart beats gaze. What I saw was, as in a dream, I with excitement, but not seeing anyone, it is understood everything essential. disappointed. The sadness instantly passed, a feeling of One person was walking through the inspiration came. arid area. My heart was breaking from the The tree greeted the man with a loud suffocating heat. From thirst, as on the ground, cracks formed in his lips, his legs were voice:

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TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 12, June, 2021

Department of Education, Health and Culture The man received the greeting of the of Agstafa District Executive Power. Since 2011 he has been working as a leading tree; – Good morning, my favorite tree of life! consultant in the Education Department of Agstafa region and is a second-class civil - he answered with a smile. servant. In 2014-2015, he also worked as a From these words, the soul of the tree regional correspondent for the magazine was filled with tenderness. "Cultural Life". Indeed, how beautiful it is to be called a Since 2003 he has been a dissertation tree of life ?! student of the Institute of History named after A.A Bakıkhanov of the Azerbaijan National Translated by Marjeta Shatro Rrapaj Academy of Sciences. He has published six scientific articles about historical meetings of Autobiography A.A Bakıkhanov, literary relations of Azerbaijan in the XIX Ali Jafaroglu (Ali century, ArmeniaJafar oglu Aliyev) was Azerbaijan, Nagornoborn on July 4, 1968 in the Karabakh conflict, etc. city of Agstafa of the and made scientific Republic of Azerbaijan in reports at various an intellectual family. In scientific conferences and 1984 he graduated from international the piano department of symposiums in Baku. the 7-year children's His famous poems, music school of Agstafa stories, tales, aphorisms named after H. Arif, in and scientific-publicist 1990 graduated from the articles published in faculty of public correspondents of the “Ulduz”, “Education”, “Cultural life”, “Media Republican Council of People's University, in and educational innovations”, “Science and 1992 from the history faculty of Baku State life”, “Pigeon”, “Füyuzat”, “CulturalUniversity. In 1987-1989 he served in the enlightenment” magazines and “Literature”, military service in Georgia. He is a candidate “Caspian”, “525th newspaper”, “Savalan”, for master of sports in Greco-Roman “Palitra”, “Culture”, “Azerbaijani youth”, wrestling. “Azerbaijani teacher”, “Education problems”, In 1992-1993 years he was a teacher in “Baku”, “Agstafa”, “Psychologist”, Hasansu village secondary school of Agstafa “Morning”,“Novruz”, “Faryad”, “Haqiqat”, “Cikregion, in 1993 he was an assistant to the head cik”, “Deli Kur”, “Dadem Gorgud”, “Mubarize”, of the Executive Power of Agstafa region, in “Eurasia”, “Time ”and other newspapers. His 1993-1995 he was a teacher in Gazakh branch twenty pen products were broadcast on of Ganja State Pedagogical Institute, in 1995- Azerbaijani radio. 1999 he was in the Youth and Sports His poems and stories were published in Department Chief Inspector, from 1999 to the collections of poems "Wreath of Poetry of 2011 he worked as a senior consultant in the year I, no. 12, 2021, June

– Welcome, my dear! Good morning!"

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 12, June, 2021

Agstafa" in 2001 and 2002. Ali Jafaroglu 's "My father is my happiness" in 2002, "Towards the summit" in 2003, "Doctor's dreams" in 2006, "Spring of eighty-five years" in 2008, "Sailor's journey" in 2013, "Wreath of Aphorisms" book was published in 2014. His seventh book "Sailor's Journey" was published in Persian in 2019 in the city of Zanjan, the Islamic Republic of Iran. His literary and scientific-publicist articles were published in 7 magazines, more than 30 newspapers, more than 100 internet portals, as well as his stories published in 8 countries - Turkey, Ukraine, Belarus, Iran, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan and Georgia in 9 languages - in English, Turkish, Russian, Ukrainian, Belarusian, Persian, Uzbek, Tajik and Georgian. The author of seven books, Ali Jafaroglu has been a member of the Azerbaijan Writers' Union since 2006, the Azerbaijan Journalists' Union since 2014, the Iraqi Turkmen Writers and Writers Union since 2018, and the North American Writers' Union since 2021.

By the relevant order signed by the President of the Republic of Azerbaijan, Mr. Ilham Aliyev, Ali Jafaroglu was awarded the title of Presidential Scholar on 01.05.2014. In 2014, he was awarded the “Golden Pen” media award, and on December 10 of the same year he won the second prize in the journalistic writing competition on the topic “Rights for All!” and the first prize in 2017. He was awarded the 3rd place in the patriotism story nomination competition which was held by the State Border Service in 2015, 1st place

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in 2019. In 2016 he was awarded by the 4th place in the prose nomination in the “Competition of poems, prose and drama works for young children” by the Ministry of Education of the Republic of Azerbaijan, he took first place in the essay competition dedicated to the 100th anniversary of the Azerbaijan Democratic Republic in the Republic of Uzbekistan in 2018. In 2018 his poems were published in the anthology of poems "From Karabakh Kerkuk to Canakkale" published in Turkey and his article "Azerbaijani women in the years of repression" was published in the collection of research articles "Cümhuriyyətə işıq saçan qadınlar". In 2015, his story “Plane and a piece of wood” was included in the textbook “Azerbaijani language” (for VIII grades of Russian sections). The story "Five Coins" was published in the newspaper " Adana haber postasi " in turkish, his "Beş tiyin" story was published in The Uzbekistan Republic’s newspaper "Book World" in Uzbek , in 2018 his story "Plane and a piece of wood" in Georgian was published in the magazine "Modern Children's Literature" in Tbilisi, on the website of the Republic of Kazakhstan his story "Beş tiyin" was in Turkish, but his story "Walter's goodness" was published in Russian, his story " Five coins " was published in the magazine "Metamorphosis" in Gomel, Belarus, in 2019 , his 2 stories in russian were published in magazine "Ekoloq I ya " in Belarus, his story was published in Uzbek in "Termez University" newspaper in Termez, 2 stories in Tajik in "Adabie va comea" newspaper in TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 12, June, 2021

Tajikistan, his 2 stories in belarus were published in magazine "Metamorphosis" in Belarus in 2021, his story “Plane and a piece of wood” was published in English and Ukrainian in international magazine "Solnecniy qorod" in Kiev, Ukraine, his stories in Russian were published in the North American Writers' Union's online magazine "Tvorçeskiy zal" and in literary magazine " Avanqard " in Donetsk.

pleased with its trunk. After a momentary silence it turned to the plane tree. “Hey, plane tree, all who see you praise your beauty, grandiose and your shadow. If only I were you! ” said the plank.

The plane tree was lost in thoughts, the words of the wood dispersed its thoughts. It looked in the direction from where the voice was heard, looked at the wooden frame and He is married, he has a son, two asked. daughters and a grandson. “Why do you ask, plank? I wonder why A Plane tree and a plank do you say so, aren’t you pleased with your case? ” (story) The plank stared the

“Why don’t you speak? Tell me please what has happened to you?” “Once I was also a high tree, my top could touch the clouds. I was charm of the forest. The nightingales settled on my branches, the children played in my shadow, the people laughed near me. What a pity, I can’t live those days anymore. Now there is no sign of my old charm. I have turned to an ordinary plank.”

The workers loaded the wooden materials to the lorry and brought to a nice house. After some time the doors and windows of the building were made, and decorated glasses were cut according to the size of the window frames. When the frames were painted with red paint they began to glitter under the beams of the sun. That house was seen very When nut tree finished its talk it sighed nice! The people passing by stopped at the deeply. house and enjoyed from watching at the nice The plane tree shook its head. building. “Hey, plank! Are you grieving for these? I A plank which had once been a wild nut was surprised what has happened to you Don’t tree in the forest and then had turned to pieces grieve! Do you think all the trees will remain of wood watched the high plane tree the top of where they are? Even the Mother nature also which could reach up sky. The plank looked at changes its appearance. The seasons of the the leaves of the plane tree enviously and was years replace each other, the nature is lost in year I, no. 12, 2021, June

They cut the wild nut tree in the forest. After they cut off the branches of it, they shaved its trunk on planing machine. They made doors and windows from the pieces of plank.

plane tree sorrowfully. It was so sorrowful, that the plane tree began to calm it.

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 12, June, 2021

winter dream, then it awakens in spring, all around are covered with flowers. All around is green. But in autumn the cold winds blow and the yellow leaves fall on the ground. Have you forgotten all of these?” “No, I haven’t forgotten, “plank said. The plane tree continued.

is why they painted you. But still I don’t know how my end will be. Maybe they will cut me and use as firewood, maybe I shall become dry and mix with the soil.” After hearing the words of the plane tree the nut tree became calm and began to watch around with a smile.

“You know that the human beings don’t live forever. They also pass away when it is time. The old people die and the babies come Gautam Deb to life. The people whom I had seen have been old, and the children have been adults, “plane India tree said and pointed to the young trees and said.

Translator Sevil Gulten

True knowledge

“These young trees Learning from had been planted books is only knowledge recently. They are fed that will pave the way by with water, air, sun adding resources along beams, and grow with the the way.The main lesson care of the people. The is the lessons learned day will come and these from nature, young trees also will be environment, daily life high as me, they will be and society. Acquired the charm of the forest education is the main way and will present joy to the to gain real knowledge. people. Some of them won’t grow, they will become dry. That is why The depth of knowledge is infinite. The I advise you not to feel sorry for your present name of remembering something for a long case, my dear!” time is not knowledge.The chemistry of deep “Who will need me? Nobody is in need of perception is knowledge that shows the world me anymore. Nobody will love me, nobody will a new path. sleek my leaves with their looks, “the plank said hopelessly. Knowledge is light. It will just scatter the The plane tree watched the plank and ray. And will bind one ray after another. The said. true knowledge is the feeling that will take you “I think you must be delighted that you to the depths of that ray of light and bring you give a charm to the house. Once you were a out of it. charm in the forest but now you are the charm of the house. Look, the people watch you! They are admired at you! The people love you. That

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TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 12, June, 2021

Muhammad Ishaq Abbasi Pakistan

Would That I Were A Cuckoo! Would that I were a Cuckoo, And fly in the cool blue sky, And look down to and fro, Searching for people who are hard-hearted, Stubborn, emotional and destroy Peace. With my soft melodious song, I would awaken the music

Selma Kopic Bosnia-Herzegovina

Swallows, dear birds Under the roof of this old house, I was left completely alone. My children are gone, my birds have flown away. Everything is as quiet as a grave. Come, swallows, dear birds, and make a nest under

of peace, Once more in their hearts.

my eaves. May your chirping bring

Debendra Sahu

spring to my cold home. May your song bring me

India

Tattered Tears seldom evaporate Or dry in the pool of our eyes,

happiness. I’m waiting for you to sing with you, to talk to you about distant expanses

Rather they secretly traverse to seas

that I’ll never see.

While streaming on swollen cheeks,

I need you because, when you leave,

Dancing merrily through the waves

I know you will come back to me.

Gently invade the oceans, Hatching storms in the broken hearts souls.

year I, no. 12, 2021, June

Darkening the sky and inundating tattered

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 12, June, 2021

The magazine appears in Romania editorial office Founding President Lenuș Lungu & Santosh Kumar Biswa Director: Lenuș Lungu, Santosh Kumar Biswa Deputy Director: Paul Rotaru Technical Editor Ioan Muntean Covers Ioan Muntean Editor-in-Chief: Ion Cuzuioc Deputy Editor: Stefano Capasso Editorial Secretary: Anna Maria Sprzęczka

yaer I, no. 12, June, 2021

ISSN 2458-0198 ISSN-L 2458-0198 Founded in Constanţa, June 2020

Editors: Vasile Vulpaşu, Anna Maria Sprzęczka, Pietro Napoli, Myriam Ghezaïl Ben Brahim, Zoran Radosavljevic, Suzana Sojtari Iwan Dartha, Auwal Ahmed Ibrahim, Destiny M O Chijioke, Nikola Orbach Özgenç Responsibility for the content of texts published in the journal belongs directly to the authors who sign them, in the name of freedom of expression.

Taifas Literary Magazine

Reproduction - in whole or in part - of the journal and its electronic distribution are authorized for the private use of the reader and for non-commercial purposes.

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Authors in summary:

ALI JAFAROGLU 27, 42, ANA SMILJANIC 3, BIJAYALAXMI RATH 9, DASHARATH NAIK 13, DEBENDRA SAHU 47, DR. MINTI GOGOI 9, DR. PRASANS KUMAR DALAI 2, DR. SAHADEV BEHERA 10, DR. SURESH CHANDRA SARANGI 9, DUSMANTA CHOUDHURY 11, GAUTAM DEB 46, GORDANA ANDONOVSKA 2, JESÚS COROMOTO OLIVARES 36, LAKSHMAN KISKU 22, LEENA RAJAN 10, LENUŞ LUNGU 39, LORETA TOADER 22, LUNGI SHIGO MSUSA 11, MAHANAJ PARVIN 13, MALAK NORA HAMMADI 18, 35, MIHAI KATIN 14, MILI DAS 15, MOITREYEE RAJU 20, MUHAMMAD ISHAQ ABBASI 47, NNAMDI PATRICK 17, NOORULLAH KHATTAK 34, PROFESSOR ABBAS JAMAL. 40, PUNYA DEVI 17, RADHIKA TYTLER 16, RAMINA HERRERA 14, REZAUDDIN STALIN 6, SAHADEV BEHERA 26, SAJID HUSSAIN 21, SANTOSH KUMAR BISWA 24, SELMA KOPIC 47, SHANTA FARJANA 15, SHERIFE ALLKO 12, SUCHISMITA GHOSHAL 23, SUDHA DIXIT 16, SUGAR ZEDNA 12, SUJATA PAUL MEGHA 20, TAMARA ČAPELJ - ŠAHDO BOŠNJAK; 36, TANU VERMANI KAPOOR 21, TSHEWANG NORBU 19

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TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine No. 12, June, 2021

Articles inside

confabulation

prose

poetry