prose

prose 27-30

Ali Jafaroglu

Azerbaijan

(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. 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. The bus turned left in front of the railway

Captive eyes

28

station, slowly drove towards the village, which for many years has been eager to see. 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. Breathing deeply, drawing a pleasant scent into the mud, he looked out the window, trying to brand all the changes in his memory. Suddenly I remembered the wonderful 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. " That same evening, putting on new clothes, he showed everything to his father: –Look, dad, how beautiful, -having said with joy, he added. I love the color blue. " Father, Amiraslan, examining his son from top to bottom: –Yes, sonny, fits well, only a little of the trousers fall off at the back. You need a belt, ”said the father, instructed his wife, Amina, to bring his old belt. 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 smallawl. Brother Rahman stood aside and also examined him. After that, the pants fit him. A starched white shirt, as if it had just been bought. – Ahmed, son, how they suit you, - said the mother, leaning her son to her chest and kissed him.

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 house in this village? The man looked with surprise at the unfamiliar face: –Son, you are probably not from here? After these words, Ahmed did not know what to answer. After a little thought, he said: –I came to visit; -stepped aside his face so that they would not suspect anything.

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

30

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. The weather was too hot. There were a lot of people on the bus, so it was impossible to breathe. At the same time, the bus was filled with dust. On the other hand, even in a dream, the impossible, terrible news enveloped his heart. As if something inside was broken. All thoughts were confused in his head, as if sweat of regret swept over him. Death, loved ones, life partner married another, all this changed his mood. What his only son calls another man's father makes him sad and suffocates him. He recalled a letter to Gatiba written from the Baltic region. In 1943. In the same year, when there was a bloody battle there, he was mortally wounded. For two months he was treated in a hospital and almost died. During that terrible period, when the battle was not for life, but fordeath, he asked a man from the Tauz district, named Asker, to write a letter to the family with the following content: "If I cannot return to my homeland safe and sound, marry a man worthier than me, 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 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 through the pages of a book of a painful life he lived.

Like many others, I volunteered for the war against the German fascists. In one of the heavy battles, an enemy shell exploded, wounded me in the head, and many parts of my body were damaged by shrapnel. In that 1943 year, in the fall, after being wounded, the Nazis took me prisoner. This was the beginning of a martyr's captive life. I do not wish this to anyone. First in Büchenwald, then in the prison camp of Osvensija until the end of the war he lived a life of torment. If you can say that this is life. Before losing their strength, they forced the prisoners to work, shot those who could not work, burned them alive in blast furnaces, put them on a chair, tied them up, gave electricity to the body, gave us terrible inhuman torment. Defeated in World War II, the Nazis exterminated millions of people of different nationalities. I turned my will into steel, iron, withstood. I prayed to God to stay alive. 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

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

32

also raised the other, hit his hand on the arm, heard a sound. You see Amin, it's not for nothing that the fathers said: "Not a sound from one hand." Son, to work, when you need help, call others for help. These words, as if carved in the memory of Ahmed. On the right side of the house there was a bedroom, where once there were love affairs with Gatiba. They loved each other very much. Gatiba's father immediately agreed to marry his daughter to Ahmed. Ahmed was a handsome and decent young man. He was always engaged in useful work, helped his father and mother, friends in everything. His wife gave birth to a beautiful boy for him. The birth of a child brought happiness to the house. Ahmed, hearing the conversation from the side, quickly looked back. Three young people, talking, walked in his direction. He wanted to show that he had nothing to do with this house. So he bent down and wiped the hem of his trousers and hesitated a little. When he straightened up, he saw in front of him a tall, full body, with chestnut eyes, a friendly gaze, a shirt with short sleeves and a teenager wearing blue trousers standing over his head. –Uncle, what happened to you? Who are you looking for? the teenager asked. Ahmed heard a pleasant voice and was very worried. He examined the young man. Top down. As if the structure of his face was like that of Ahmed. The son was very similar to his father. The heartbeat intensified, the pulses increased. “What kind of meeting is this, God ?!” the thought passed through my head for a moment. Arriving in his native village, he heard about the death of his father and mother. For many years of childhood and youth, with an extreme dream of getting home, he could not get there, like a prisoner, furtively glanced around, asked in a caring manner: –Son, do you live in this house? – Uncle, this is our house, - the young man answered with restraint, assuming a caring look:

“You seem to be feeling bad? - said and invited the guest into the house: – Thank you, son, it became a little bad, Ahmed answered sadly. – Uncle, go into the house, - the youth persisted. –No, sonny, what is your name? –Huseyn. After these words, a feeling of fear passed through my heart. He staggered unconsciously. Barely kept himself from falling to the ground. As if for a moment this desired meeting with my son made me forget all the torments. How much he had expected these happy minutes, how much he had to endure for the sake of this day. Although that happy moment was near to hug her only beloved son, it was impossible. Only with a sad look and gaze, accustomed in captivity, did he examine his son. Raising his right hand and lightly putting it on his son's shoulder, he said with speed: – Oh god, how did you grow up son.

When I saw you, you were two years old. The boy looked at the stranger in surprise: –Uncle, I don’t know Ias, you seem to be the first time in our village? -asked the young man.

Ahmed followed every word and movement of his son and tried to remember forever. – I used to be often in your house, son. Damn Hitler and all fascists! How many innocent people died, how many houses were destroyed, families were left without a head. For the first time after the war, I am in a village. Unable to withstand the alarm, he opened the shirt button and asked. " Where is your father? "The young man did not expect such a question from him. 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! Ahmed, proud of these words, stroked the young man's head: –Son, I'm sorry, I didn't know about it. I know your father well. I loved him very much, as a brother, this good-natured person, at the same time our fathers were close friends, ”having said, he had to lie. Otherwise, the secret would have been revealed, and Gatiba's further fate would have been annoying. Therefore, Ahmed did not want to ruin the life of his son and wife. To the rural people, how could he explain that he was not guilty ?! The people will ask: "Could you write a few lines?" I, branded as an enemy of the people, no one would have believed that all rights had been taken away, on the contrary, they would have accused me. The son tried to continue the conversation he had just heard: – Uncle, I love my mother very much. Because of me, she threw herself into fire and flames. My father's spirit is always with me. We have been waiting for his return for a long time. Enlarged a photograph in military uniform sent from the war, hung in the living room. 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 family. Grandmother and grandfather died early, unable to bear the death of their son Ahmed. I have always dreamed of being a hero like my father. Therefore, I gave documents to the Military Academy, I will try to become a professional military man in order to protect the Motherland from inveterate enemies. Ahmed was a little alarmed by the

34

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. He turned his face to his son and said goodbye to him: – Goodbye, son, I expected these words from you. I believe that all dreams will come true, you will vigilantly stand guard over the Motherland, - having uttered these words, he embraced his only son for the first and last time for him, pressed him to his chest and kissed him. This kiss, even for a moment, made it possible to forget everything that had been lived through martyrdom. Now he calmly, not looking back, although he did not know what awaited him ahead, regardless of this he could return, where a new fate awaited him. Because a faithful and decent son of Azerbaijan lived and grew up in his home. With a proud glance, Ahmed looked at his son for the last time, at the house where he lived before, began to returnback, confident in his dreams. At this time, a familiar and familiar voice was heard from the yard: –Who are you talking to, son? Did he bring news from his father? Translated by Marjeta Shatro Rrapaj 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. Now in this age of constantly shrinking space and time , behavioral lines have turned full circle. To stay relevant in our fast time, one must be good in double talk, situation- related expressions and changing modes and ideas from place to place. The word used for this ability is "Savoir faire" (literally = knowing how to do) in English. When I turned how to theorize this bevaviorial ability, I stumbled on the phrase: "well rounded personality". But this was not something new. It could be found in the 7 rounds of circumbulation (= tawaf). Pilgrims dressed in patch of white cloth nimbly walk around kaba sharif. Perhaps, this is the lesson for believers to evolve diplomatic and clever while defending themselves from scheming jews and hypocritical non-muslims right from the dawn of Islam in 7th century. Mathematicians used roundness for cross-checking calculations. States Diplomats used roundness for words that can be reinterpreted differently later. Clever people in State and Society turned

"roundness" into hypocrisy. The speech and words of all these people can be summed up in spotless urdu as " gol mol baat and jawab". The best and brilliant of people even known how to link round things into a complex whole to stay and work formidably. When all this has become a norm in human societies, what is option of defensive and offensive behaviour??? The answer is to stay and behave in "Concentric way". Be complex as much as you can to overwhelm the roundness of thugs, ruffians and tricksters in society. Let your personality and growth be "Wheel within wheel" to fend off the human enmity and moves of deception. 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 Colonial thoughts ... when do we knock on the door of terrible silence

That you haven't eaten anything for a certain time, it is not necessary that you are now hungry... It is never wrong to say something unusual The mistake is that we do not have the courage to express our opinion frankly The mistake is to paint a civilized picture of yourself that has nothing to do with the features of your real personality. Challenge yourself a bit and try to sit in front of a mirror and stare at it for a long time Even if curiosity kills you and you open your insight for a while, you will not recognize the character in it What we fall into now and what draws us to the bottom of our thinking is the selfish ego rooted in our thoughts

How can the world recognize us as a literary fact when we do not have the slightest ability, which is to express freely ... 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 Only we were the ones who caused the cultivation of colonialism with our thoughts We will not find the way to freedom and psychological comfort... unless we have the ability to eradicate some convictions that wear the mantle of tradition. 35

essay 36-35

Jesús Coromoto Olivares Tamara Čapelj - Šahdo Bošnjak

Venezuela/Ecuador

Reflection: No racism

No racism

Bosna i Hercegovina;

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

36

Sometimes we can have black and white

thoughts, but when we are dealing with humans, let's change our suffering, let's see ourselves as brothers, to change this world, which is spoiled.

We cannot consent

to continue being mistreated, 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 you!

KATEGORIJA: recenzija zbirke dječije poezije; , pjesnikinja

Sličice iza sklopljenih očiju

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,

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 vječnekategorije. 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. 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 svijeta zapravo njegovi otac i majka, te poetski nastavlja: 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”: Kad bi djeca na brodovima bila zapovjednici prvog reda, umjesto mina i torpeda prevozila bi tegle meda.

38

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“. Posebno su djeci bliske pjesme o životinjama, u kojima im autor približava životinje, njihov način života i važnost za čovjeka. Ove pjesme obiluju onomatopejama i alegorijama, te su posebno važne na obraznovnoj razini. Pjesnik je na djeci prijemčiv način približio mačka, šišmiše, leptire, vjevericu, fazana, cvrčka, zeca, lastavicu, glistu, stonogu, pače, ali i poskoka. Pišući o životinjama, pjesnik poučava djecu o tome kako da postupaju prema njima i da ih se bezrazložno ne boje, ali i da male životinje imaju veoma važnu ulogu u prirodi, pa i za čovjeka. Također, piše o životinjama koje djeca mogu vidjeti u svojem zavičaju, te tako širi njihova znanja o prirodnim bogatstvima naše zemlje. Pojedine pjesme, poput one o neposlušnom pačetu, zapravo su male alegorije koje govore djeci o životu. 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: 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 prirodu i živi u potpunoj harmoniji s njom može očuvati zrdravim svoje tijelo i duh. Recimo i nekoliko riječi o jeziku kojim je napisana ova zbirka pjesama. On je živ, razumljiv i prilagođen djeci, s elementima lokalnog govora koji obogaćuju književni bosanski jezik. Poezija Šahde Bošnjaka obiluje stilskim figurama (alegorije, metafore, usporedbe, asonance, aliteracije, onomatopeje itd.), rimom, jasnim pjesničkim slikama koje počivaju na pojmovima bliskim djeci i maštovitim konotacijama pa djeca mogu crpiti iz njih poruke o ljubavi, razumijevanju, marljivosti, dobroti, poštovanju, ljepoti i važnosti zavičaja i prirode koja nas okružuje. Zanimljive su i kratke priče ili bolje reći –pjesme u prozi, koje pronalazimo unutar prvog ciklusa. U njima pjesnik živopisno 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.