Taifas Literary Magazine No. 9, March, 2021

2 authors ... p. 2 editorial ... p. 3

poetry ... p. 8 prose ... p. 39 essay ... p. 47 confabulation ... p. 52 3 autors ... 59

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021

Lyn Ramos V Alfonso Philippines

Pakistán

War And Peace

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Every individual has freedom.

Every nation has sovereignty.

When freedom is invaded, When the laws of sovereignty are violated, Conflicts arise and when unsettled Wars can’t be avoided.

Wars cause so much devastations, damages to lives and resources, Traumas and fears to both warring nations and people.

And the lives of the future generation become uncertain.

Why don’t we chose to settle conflicts amicably?

Why don’t we try to respect everyone’s freedom and sovereignty?

For the world to live in harmony and peace, For a better humanity, For the future of our children, Let’s all give peace and harmony a chance.

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Muhammad Ishaq Abbasi

Woeful Dead On return from a long journey on foot, I was just on my way.

It was midnight.

I sat by a grave in the cemetery.

And because of fatigue I fell asleep and dreamed.

That the graves were torn open.

And the deads came out of the graves, Talking to each other with joy.

One of them was sitting woeful.

After a while the angels came down from heaven, They presented gifts to each of the dead.

The deads happily went back to the graves.

No presents were given to the woeful dead.

When he started going back to the grave empty handed.

So I asked him.

Why no gift was offered to you?

So he began to say that dear relatives in the world, Do charity and prayers for their own deads.

While I have only one mother in the world.

And she got remarried.

She forgot me She doesn't offer any gifts for me.

No one gives charity or prays for my reward.

That's why I'm worried.

Saying this, he went back to the grave.

Those who are alive should remember their deads in prayers.

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9,March, 2021

Paul Rotaru

Efectele contrastului poetic Motto: Când în paradis ninge, în iad arde soare. Aurora Ispas Efectele vieții asupra actului creator sunt de-a dreptul cutremurătoare de cele mai multe ori, însă ele permit conceptualizarea într-o sferă superioară a reperelor vitale în arealul contextului artistic. Oamenii sunt creatori fără a fi neapărat artiști; ei sunt creatori după cum îi orientează vectorii ființării pe pământ și, dacă nu ar îndrăzni în libera lor imaginație, s-ar preschimba în prizonierii propriilor rutine. În romanul social clasic s-au impus caractere și tipologii unice, dar ridicate la standarde peste așteptarea contemporaneității; adică sunt aduse la nivel de absolut în bine și rău, astfel încât acele personaje riscă să pară neverosimile sau, cel mult, exaltări ale preceptelor ce aparțin autorilor. E drept că un scriitor de roman inventează personaje care să reflecte cu naturalețe felurite idei pe care autorul nu le-ar putea exprima în viața de zi cu zi și nici nu lear putea eterniza altfel.

Cu toate astea, când spiritul creator își asumă dimensiunea artistică, scriitorul potențează și amplifică sensul ideii până la punctul de fierbere în care principiul se evaporă. Grea misiune prin asumarea ei, știm, dar cine țintește jos, acolo rămâne. Să ni se year I, no. 9, 2021, March

permită un argument! Javert, captiv al disciplinei, al ideii de puritate, își desființează logica autoritară amintindu-și că el este progenitura unei târfe încarcerate. Legea, reprezentată de Inspectorul Javert, o lege strictă, rigidă, inumană și, totuși, concepută de oameni, se azvârle în Sena, pentru curățire, tot așa cum toate valorile omenirii se lasă spălate de trecerea eternă a fluviului vital. Victor Hugo îndrăznește să opună curajul prezentului de a se sinucide în favoarea unui necunoscut viitor care trebuie să se descurce de la sine. Pot oamenii, în libertatea lor supremă, să aibă încredere în viitorul pe care nu și-l pricep?

Dacă da, instinctul ne salvează pe toți. Dacă nu, tot instinctul ne va extermina.

E comod să credem că, deasupra faptelor noastre, există o inteligență care ne dictează dacă faptele ne sunt bune sau rele. Este mult mai dificil să ieșim din plasma realității, a rutinei, a placentei originare, astfel încât să rupem lanțurile care ne leagă de același prezent gonflabil și conjunctural. De aici, încep granițele artistice.

Mai departe, intervin riscurile! Se prea poate ca, în vremuri incomensurabile, haosul să fi avut nevoie de stăpânire. Și de aceea trebuia ucis Tiamat, pentru ca ulterior să ne ivim și noi, oamenii, în orizontul acestui univers.

Preocuparea mea personală față de poezie implică inevitabil factorul uman, spre care mă îndrept atât cu un deget acuzator, cât și cu un suflet crispat, timid, uneori de o rezervă excesivă. Cu toate astea, poezia a răbufnit din mine ca o neliniște neînțeleasă, greu acceptabilă, ca un dragon dornic de pârjol, dar care susține pe aripi oamenii cei

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editorial 3-7

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021

mai dragi. Știu că timpurile de acum nu sunt mai tragice decât oricare epocă din existența omenirii; percepția personală m-ar fi dus demult la balamuc dacă nu mi-aș fi dezvoltat viziunea artistică în virtutea căreia să dau vitalitate propriilor speranțe. Aș comite o aroganță dacă aș da drept exemplu viața mea în susținerea temei acestui editorial. Deși sunt convins că ceea ce scriu stârnește curiozități dincolo de limitele textelor publicate, am marea nădejde că forma pe care o dau vieții prin creațiile mele literare va mobiliza, alături de toți artiștii acestei lumi, viața planetei către repere ce ne înalță pe toți oamenii... din trecut și din totdeauna.

oameni, printre călăi și semidocți, printre analfabeți cu ștaif și curve fără nume! Poezia sa născut în bordel, a fost înfășată cu scutecele religiei și a căutat laptele din sânul lui Satan.

Poeziei i-a trebuit o zodie a omenirii pentru a se ghida în calea revenirii spre iad. Sau spre rai!?

Poezia are carențe fără de care nu ar fi fost perfectibilă. Cea mai mare carență a ei este substanța, acel suflu personal ce îndepărtează eul cititor de realul concret prin făgașele eului liric. Ne cerem iertare, ca poeți, că dăm cu supra de măsură din spiritele noastre, dar nici noi nu am supraviețui altfel! Nu viața ne-a făcut poeți, nici educația și nici cultura, acest flagel al opțiunilor; trecerea prin lume, printre

valori se regăsește în următoarele versuri.

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Quasimodo = „aproape ceva“, îl numea Victor Hugo pe dramaticul personaj la propria tinerețe literară. Dacă am fi nostalgici, am crede că franțuzul a dus-o bine în exilul din Elveția! Dacă am fi răutăcioși, am spune că binețea se datora unor simpatii politice fără de care exilul nu i-ar fi fost favorabil în contextul romanului care a întors Nimeni și niciodată, două continente pe dos. Și pe acest ținut căruia îi gata cu „dacă“! Victor spunem Cămin, nu a fost Hugo a schimbat lumea artist pentru a măguli nu doar pentru că a scris puterea, pentru a da literatură, că a fost un speranțe deșarte unei republican democrat; el a societăți care gusta scris cea mai dificilă elixirul dezamăgirii. Arta, dramă, „Cromwell“, de la prima ei manifestare tocmai pentru că, în prin plâns, s-a maturizat tinerețea lui fizică, avea odată cu omenirea pentru viziunea principiului a ne da și zâmbete. Arta democratic dus la scară avea nevoie de oameni pentru a-și regăsi supremă: egali toți înaintea lui Dumnezeu, fie dumnezeul, tot astfel cum Dumnezeu trebuia că El ne aude ori nu! să fie artist pentru a-l crea pe om. În spectrul Doresc să nu fie uitat acest principiu și artei, trebuie să fim naivi a ne imagina o lume fac asta revenind la valori fără de care scrierea în care Satan tace și tace... cam tot atât cât tace acestor rânduri ar fi fost goale de la capăt.

Dumnezeu. Poate chiar mai mult, dacă Stima supremă ce o nutresc artiștilor sub ale ascultăm cu sufletele acolo unde avem nevoie. căror auspicii mi-am dezvoltat sistema de

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În ceasul vlăguirii de pe urmă, Îndurerat privesc la voi, copii.

Durerile ființa toată-mi scurmă La gândul că-ntr-o zi nu voi mai fi...

TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Mi-e greu să port această agonie În sufletu-mi îmbătrânit de patimi.

Oh, neființă rece și târzie, De ce nu vrei o dată să mai clatini?

Mă vor închide-n temnița uitării Numindu-se divini în locul meu, Iar din cenușa urii și puterii Au să mai inventeze-un dumnezeu...

Din tine am făcut și nori... și stele... Și munții stăpâniți de semizei...

Ai fost cu toate-n virtuțile mele Și-ți cer acum cu toate să mă iei...

Dar nu de ei durerea mă apasă, Ci pentru voi, iubiții mei copii – În veșnicia mea întunecoasă, De m-ați uita, eu totuși aș muri...

Ca fiii mei, îmi voi purta povara Și lovituri de pietre voi primi, Iar soarele înnobilându-și fiara În strigăte de hulă voi privi.

V-am închinat izvoare, mări și valuri Și universul tot să-l stăpâniți; Voi ați crezut în alte idealuri – M-ați părăsit ca să vi le-mpliniți...

Coroana cea de spini, însângerată, Vă va rămâne singură-amintire.

Peste milenii-o veți păstra curată, Blazon pentru întreaga omenire...

De câte ori v-ați depărtat de casă Pe căi necunoscute, nedescrise, Eu am rămas cu ochii la fereastră – V-am așteptat cu brațele deschise!

În sânge vă veți cântări iubirea, Vărsându-l fără milă în noroi, Spunând că de la mine-aveți puterea, Că-mi semănați și că trăiesc în voi...

M-ați judecat și vă-nțeleg durerea, De ce nu v-am făcut nemuritori, De ce nu v-am împrumutat puterea De-a fi stăpâni pe soare și pe nori.

Azi m-au chemat instanțele divine, Cerându-mi să le dau o socoteală: De ce-am creat frumoasa omenire Știind că într-o zi ea va să piară?

De-ați fi nemuritori, din ignoranță Nici viața n-ați mai ști s-o prețuiți, Iar cântecul ce l-am numit SPERANȚĂ Ar fi neînsemnat să-l mai trăiți.

Nu îmi găsesc cuvinte să dau seamă De ce-ați primit suflarea de-a trăi – E ca și cum ați judeca o mamă Că a iubit și a născut copii!

În nemurire nu este puterea Nici fericirea-n cel nemuritor; Acolo unde-i zâmbetul, durerea, E totul mai frumos... că-i trecător!

De-aceea în instanțele divine Tăcerea este cel mai bun răspuns – Se vor înstrăina cu toți de mine Și moartea pentru ei n-ar fi de-ajuns...

Voi sunteți mai puternici decât mine Pentru că-nvingeți tot ce vă apasă, Iar zilele de patimă vi-s pline, Căci steaua voastră-i cea mai radioasă!

year I, no. 9, 2021, March

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9,March, 2021

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021

De n-aș fi fost în lumea mea pustie, Mi-ar fi plăcut să fiu acolo, jos, Căci viața voastră e o simfonie Pe care chiar și eu aș fi gelos.

Oricât de multe stele, tot puține Pe noua boltă vi se vor părea, Iar lumea voastră, cu sau fără mine, Ar fi la fel de bună și de rea...

Dar vă privesc cu dragoste adâncă Din golul resemnărilor de-apoi, Ca Prometeu înlănțuit pe stâncă, Sacrificat și el tot pentru voi!

Nenumărate flăcări și blesteme Veți azvârli spre zările albastre, Căci groaza pustiirilor eterne E plăsmuirea neștiinței voastre.

Nu-mi spuneți c-am făcut vreo nedreptate, Iubind mai mult pe unii ca pe alții – Eu n-am fost dictator peste palate Și nici nu am încununat ovații.

În scopul păcii veți purta războaie, Veți invoca scripturi, savanți, profeți; Din sângele vărsat între noroaie Veți vrea să inventați copii perfecți.

Nu pot să-mi cântăresc nicicând iubirea Prin închinările ce vi le-ascult – De-ar fi definitivă despărțirea, Eu v-aș iubi pe toți la fel de mult!

Riscați să vă distrugeți propria vatră În al cunoașterilor lung demers, Lăsându-vă purtați pe-o altă piatră, Spre alte limite din univers.

Nu v-am cerut supunere și slavă Și nici altare pentru sacrificii, Căci sufletul e-o pasăre firavă Ce nu-și va face cuib între religii.

Poate că veți privi din lumi străine Trecutul vostru sumbru, zbuciumat Și, amintindu-vă cumva de mine, Veți crede că doar eu sunt vinovat.

Nu v-am cerut nici preoți, nici biserici Și nici statui de aur sau de lemn; Nu v-am cerut enoriași sau clerici, Ci viața s-o trăiți frumos și demn!

Puteți să-mi spuneți Soarele și Luna, Amun, Allah, Iehova, Zavaot, Iisus, Mohamed, Buddha – toate-s una Și-n aste nume voi mă faceți tot!

Eu nu vreau liturghii și molifteruri, Nici prosternare în sudoarea frunții – Iubiți-vă pe voi până la ceruri, Iubiți Pământul, câmpii, marea, munții!

Ori, pentru că voi sunteți plăsmuire Din ale universului scântei, Voi sunteți dumnezei în devenire Și, buni sau răi, sunteți copiii mei!

Voi sunteți ca o rază pentru mine, Ce liniștea-mi îmbracă în mister – De-ar fi să plec spre alte zări senine, Lăsați-mă să vă mai fac un cer!

Veți legăna pe-o lucitoare rază Uitându-mă cu toți până-ntr-o zi.

Ori, dacă zeii care vă-nfiază Vor fi mai buni, mai răi... doar voi veți ști!

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TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9,March, 2021

Mă veți găsi răpus în întuneric La rădăcina unui singur pom – Din fructul nepermis și luciferic Eu voi renaște, voi trăi ca OM! Mă veți privi din lumea voastră-naltă Ca pe ceva mărunt și curios; Eu nu am să vă judec niciodată, Nici nu voi arde jertfe de prinos!

Nu veți avea asupra mea putere, Cum eu nu am acum asupra voastră Și, tot din fericire și durere, Voi tinde către bolta cea albastră! În patimă îmi voi trăi destinul Și voi cunoaște ce e rău și bine – În ziua-n care am să beau veninul, Voi ști că totul este doar în mine.

Voi tinde să ating perfecțiunea Și tot ce e divin să înțeleg, Să aflu că iubirea e minunea Ce ține-n viață universu-ntreg!

Ramesh Chandra Pradhani India

Mother's language day A language of heart comes from heart that is mother's tongue No problems to understand one's emotions never be wrong Heartfelt and mind-blowing the songs in heart when sung More mellifluous and spontaneous those loveliest songs The language that to a mother it belongs Things are vividly and lucidly identified with sense strong A language of closeness, love and compassion in throng A fair and frank expression with no complications Squeezed the gap of communication between generations No misunderstanding mushroomed in open collaboration A better platform to catch the train of life to destination A window to the world of thoughts in the realm of transformation Now is the day to introspect the place and position One's own identity in quest of mission and vision

year I, no. 9, 2021, March

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Veți răsturna guverne colosale, Vă veți alege proprii dumnezei – Deși veniți din vremuri ancestrale, Mă tem că într-o zi veți fi ca ei...

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poetry 8-46

Maruf Shaikh

This left the door of my mind open.

So that she can taste my heart, How long can I remember?

Bangladesh

Whenever you open your hair Maybe it's not hard to breathe, However, it becomes difficult.

It might not be difficult for me to turn my eyes on you.

However, it becomes difficult.

When you go every afternoon, Stand at the corner of the roof, Secretly, By losing your hair, you untangle your hair.

See you from behind, I don't know how to increase the ability to be happy ...

I'm the man in this scene, Who loves your hair.

When you open it slowly, Blow your loose hair.

It touches my lips.

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What is its discount of scene?

I forget then..., Keep you in love.

Mysterious Love Girl When did someone come as a magician?

Don't know, She stayed in me for a while and relaxed,

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To return, After she told me like this.

Do not know where she got lost?

If she go alone.

Then maybe that’s the way it can be taken!

If she leave home empty-handed, Then maybe I could accept it anyway!

But not! No! She went to remember me.

The scent of her hair snatched me inside her, She tore my chest and grabbed my heart.

In the tune of her bracelet.

Yes, she as left alone at home.

She leaves my inner door open.

So that she can come back, She can tie her love rhyme to me as she wishes .....

When did she kiss me? She kept me in touch with her hair.

I don't know, where is that princess? ....

Fickle love ..

How much i want you?

This is something I'm not really aware of.

But if someone else shows the effect of touching your hand, I can't stop being angry.

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But don't walk away like this How long will I drive you?

I do not ask the vibrations of the breaths of a " You can run and slap a lot, battle of love.

But if someone else tries to get your attention, Until this high society stops this rain.

Kiss me again in a very angry look, When I see this happening.

If you can become inside me a life. " I have a serious problem on my mind, at that This rain of desires has come out... time.

As if someone suddenly stabbed me in the Still you didn’t stop me. chest.

But i love you only even today for your sake I am the king of dark minds, I praise you a lot.

If I want to win the joy of the sea, The contract of liberties If i cannot live with you. should write a sunset and On which name should i a bath in the sea. live?

You are my killer queen, Tell me, oh angel! so what?

I felt nothing without you I still love you my only else... killer on my mind.

How can I be rude for you?

I'm not aware of it at all,

This rain of desires has come out...

But the tears hurt the local or the end of the leave you.

But you haven’t had this different wish. rain, When someone calls you, Once more, once more.

Can't you hug my arm.

How uneasy I can be because of you?

You come from behind me like an arrow, Seeing my heart broken.

I want to make a good start on that shore again.

How much will I drown in a river like you? " But don't walk away like this.

I really have no idea, Don't burn me with a vacuum, never go away.

Only emptiness teaches me, " Take me hostage,

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Even then i could not

What else is this?

year I, no. 9, 2021, March

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I have realized the truth that Everyone has his own treasured island Everyone has his own sky India Which are enlighten with „You are the first sailor „ Flowery stars

Punya Devi

You are the first sailor of my Unexplored island Liting up a lantern of love You have enlightened my Solitary dreamland Before you Neither sounds of whistle From any ships of invader could Shake the fastened flag Of my freedom Nor any conqurer could have made Storm of ebb and tide For spoiling it’s rhythms But in that midnight While a song of an unknown bird Made me bound to feel me Loneliness deeply At that moment Spreading the sails of Hope of your boat You stood up face to face with me

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Opening the treasury of my Secret emotions I too welcomed you heartefully While you have entered into the Temple of my heart then Plunging in the blue sea Of your big eyes

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Discovering my dreamful island Building a bridge of love and peace Connecting one island to another You taught me to start the voyage In the ocean of humanity By spreading the sails of faith goodwill Of the ship of mind O the first sailor of my Unexporable solitary island Be an imperishable lamp of eternal love Will you please remain for ever In the sarinity of my dreamland...?

Bhagirath Choudhary India

Wisdom transmission From very beginning Invisible evolutionary urge Made a holy surge For making universe Write a divine verse For life and living Loving and thriving Every one co-operated All supported all All contributed TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9,March, 2021

What they learned For being

There is nature That wangle on

And becoming Making earth A cosmic wisdom hearth

Melancholy seeking for pickles To pick and sustain It’s throat is thirsty and dry by season Is like is fry It pitch on parched leaves

And apprise By being sane and wise For cosmic enterprise

Spear nature Is our orish The bird pant on tree to thrall to pick a berry But non is fund Not a oregano leaves all is

wisdom

The sacred mission For wisdom transmission Goes on genetically By word linguistically And culturally Without stop And any delay Like a wisdom relay By everyone truthfully And so very faithfully Man is here Like a account keeper And a humble Seer Let me be accountable And be universally responsible As a wisdom keeper For loving humanity And earth so very deeper Chukwuma Chika Ocm Nigeria There is nature year I, no. 9, 2021, March

dried On the weather snow it feed On As thalassic is dried Willing to keep breathing habit Not to allowing the heart to cease breath It suffers illness Unable to pick Draw white-ant To feed It lacks janitor Lay a water pot around Before it cease to breath The feeding pot Is dehydrated by dry season It needs a willing hands to Hydrate the pot The throat is dried up Set the canop to feed the public

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Everyone passed on His evolutionary wisdom To the next relay racer To help Every aspiring self To rise

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021

Francesca Ghiribelli Italia

You look like a fashion show of shy little girls clothed in bright dew on the rising beat Of sun.

Your soul color of the sky dance among the secret whispers of the wind, caress inside the tears of the meadow embroidering the poem of two lovers in a kiss longed for.

You bleed the barren earth with your bow, while a child Blue bell leans in your presence and catches you making you spite.

But then him when it grows up opening an old book he will remember than that distant day you entered the heart of his childhood and you never abandoned him with your simple elegance.

A dried flower between the pages of life: a blue bellflower never been lost.

Sameer Goel India

The ones Silent and shadowy, haughty and thrifty, rocking of petals inside a pistil of yellow rice.

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Sweet cradle of dreaming thoughts, tiny hat you appear as an ancient maiden among the blades of grass of a nostalgic vision.

Delicate perfume, docile essence in your slim figurine superb and china.

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the ones that left the mouth were words . the ones that got stuck were emotions . and the ones i always wish to say but really can't nothing but modesty . what to run for when this life, TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9,March, 2021

year I, no. 9, 2021, March

yes, i repeat advice is more of an elixir if instilled humbly because . knocking is meant to get the door opened not to break it . vanity too isn't loyal to anyone before it breaks that earthen pot always thinks that whole of water is its . if any words bring smile on someone's face that's the real beauty of this life remaining all is an ugly lie . life doesn't stop without anyone but neither passes swiftly without the ones we love . live in the moment live it so true nothing to lament let smiles accrue..

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so transient came travelled gone . a journey when it starts or it ends who knows . listen to this my friends ears wide open . relations so resembling leaves green today may be wilted tomorrow . why not we should learn upholding relations from the roots . to nurture them we often need to act blind or dumb or may be deaf too . feed them with trust an unshaken faith shall be lifelong an evergreen wreath . as it rained i listened to its song summers too turn ochre never reign forever . advice

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021

Ramesh Chandra Pradhani India

England

Morning sky Morning wakes up with scenic beauty Painted by the diverse colours of serenity Each morning comes with fresh start Fresh air, fresh light, fresh mind pretty smart Blowing the horn of consciousness Each moment of life be not emptiness Morning tears up the heart of darkness To enlighten the sky of dizziness Kissing the cheeks of clouds in numbness Like a coy mistress's carefulness As morning born from the heart of mighty sun Time being the mother moulds the mind to run Nurturing with the food of change however forlorn.

Let the morning sky of each life be abundantly brightened With the limpid light of fairness highly

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heightened

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Clive Norman

Hill of life Life’s like this Every single, solitary moment of our lives We’ll be unwittingly enduring, an eversteepening, challenging territorial climb To heavenly blissful tranquilities, within the blue oceanic skies Whether we’re climbing, a green hill, a bracken wrapped mountain, or a staircase stretching, way up, up to the heavens Sometimes we’ll stumble, sometimes we’ll fall, sometimes we’ll cry, and sometimes we’ll die And many times, we’ll roll, roll, roll, all the way down To pick oneself up, dust oneself off, and start all over again Ascending, learning, adapting, growing, evolving and blossoming, through everchanging influential circumstances Karmic destinies fulfilling, reaching the summit The symbiotic host’s, the physically expendable shell dies While the essence of soul’s immortality’s flowing eternally, blissfully resting, reenergising, awaiting Reincarnation into the untainted shell, of a newly born vessel Freshly revised, calculated karmic destiny, a new life to be fulfilled, and a new hill of life, to ascend, until…?

TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9,March, 2021

Shikdar Mohammed Kibriah

Stefano Capasso

Bangladesh

Italia

Agreement

I do not want to dry anymore

O' my beloved! Step to my earthy yard to rearrange Our traditional lively ethics of sweated cultivation For a rightful and absolutely balanced distribution Of crops between lord-house and peasant cottage.

To set a logical rate for your lovely handed crops Or, save your fellow to come back in huge harvest, Let's go in the strike make our lords logically reset As fall of capitalism is the oath of my blood drops.

How long days we've to burn our crops my darling!

Let's be united to store crops at the rate of labour, To come back again that golden days really better Let's make the harvest gate with our right marking.

You, my ladylove! Look at me, the Bengali nature How furnishes this country in seasonal diversity!

What a beauty in its absolutely balanced equality Let's distribute our households in a couple favour.

Then, come my true love to make a delightful life, I will fulfil the conditions make you a bengali wife.

Alby Raymond Alby Raymond Parackal Parackal

goodbye tears The absent gaze fly away, far beyond the horizon, over icy waters and shake.

Play and have fun the Wind to cause havoc, while confused, melancholy and heartbroken, my mind remains.

I too know well what a life without love looks like to an acidic flavor of a fruit not yet mature.

India

Reign of love, seems mysterious in this lifetime, Reigning always blowing hot and cold as prime; Really hate talking it's stand unknown to blame, Righteous stance on human rights blightesome!

Rarely emotional support of lovely bend regime, Right part with in logical conclusions all aflame; Righteous think about as conclusive in outcome, Rightly seen as human aberrations of lonesome!

Rarefied truth, of earthly living room so sublime, Rectify trances, transcends in life, cumbersome; Ransack trust of hearty thoughtful venturesome, Rational soulful humane treatment take to tame! year I, no. 9, 2021, March

No, no I don't want to dry anymore goodbye tears for an ungrateful love who no longer lives here.

But take shelter my mind, from the siege of a Void Infinity, who hopes to sit next.

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Reign of love

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021

So the distance between us is widening

Guna Moran

(Original Assamese poem titled “Antardarshan”) Tr. Nirendra Nath Thakuria

India Bio-Guna Moran is an Assamese Poet and critic. His poems are published in more than hundred international magazines, journals, webzines, blogs, newspapers, anthologies and have been translated into thirty languages around the world. He has three poetry books to his credit.

For some reason you are upset with me for a couple of days Although I don‟t know the reason I guess it right You haven‟t spelled it out I too haven‟t asked you We have taken opposite positions

Sitting hunched at the hearth of useful knowledge she toasted her ashen eyes through the gaps of her fingers Insight and very often said You are my unique achievements of my sacrifice for long ten months and ten days By birth you’ve got a beautiful earth besides the vast sky So you must be generous like the sun and tolerant like the earth

Silence is chatting between us Maybe the conversation is called the battle of nerves

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Bloodless without arms this is the most difficult battle On earth it is the best person who wins this battle again and again It is the one who ends this silent battle is ever defeated You want to be the winner Me too don‟t want to be the loser

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First Lesson

At my birth I cried Maybe I got the pains of my mother Since then I have had tears in my eyes in happiness and sorrow of people One can‟t help crying whose only companion at birth was tears That honeyed word „Maa‟ was my first honeyed word Since then I‟ve blurted out „Maa‟ unawares whenever I sit down or stand up My birth is my mother‟s sacrifice I must be made for sacrifice An ingrate I can‟t be

TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9,March, 2021

He is the lone custodian of happiness whose main assets are the sun and the earth (Original Assamese poem titled “Adipath”) Tr. Nirendra Nath Thakuria

Affection for You It was gleaming with the gaze Affection is dumb Affection is deaf Like a speaker it did not speak about the matter like a listener it did not listen to Till the moment of parting it kept waiting in the eyes In the thick green of the desolate woods A tune is ringing faintly Gazing at the eyes I want to see Is it still alive Oh dear No way, no way

a curious sigh In the teary gaze is it still alive

Chitralekha Having painted on both eyes suddenly vanished Chitralekha the enchantress She planted in heart the garden of Babylon It is swaying in heart heavenly flowers blooming

are

Everyday we hear melodious calls of painted birds You are the gardener of the hanging garden I know you won‟t come back again Yet amidst the clouds will be shining the radiant smile of the sun (Original Assamese poem titled “Chitralekha”) Note: Chitralekha was the boon companion of Usha, the daughter of the King Baan of the Sonitpur kingdom in Assam (India) of the Mahabharata era. Chitralekha had magical skills at painting and portraiture in particular. Tr. Nirendra Nath Thakuria

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My happiness lies in my mother‟s happiness My sorrow lies in my mother‟s sorrow Never can I be happy

Cleaving the heart comes out year I, no. 9, 2021, March

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021

Odujebe Oluwole

Santosh Kumar Biswa

Birland

Bhutan

May peace reign Terror in the nation In every corner, fear lurk Tranquility is uncommon May peace rule.

Insecurity in the cities Fights between brothers Family bonds broken May peace flow.

Hatred in hearts grow Anger in minds blow Conflicts in homes May peace dwell.

Countries are full of crime Societies are full of crisis Communities in confusion May peace reign.

If love reign in our hearts Then we will stand together When we love one another Peace will rule our hearts.

My Sweetest Love, let us flee Blossoms are blooming in the garden of love, The smiling autumn is maturing soon, My sweetest love, let us flee before it wilts.

The harsh winter is on the ball before eyes, The pitiless chilly wind is ready to parade, And the deceitful snow is about to fall and blur, To weaken us in love and then to turn us pale.

Before it fades, my sweetest love, let us flee And glorify our love like the Cyclamen forever To the place that fortifies an emblem of love.

We shall then wait for the spring to fly high With the new hope that beef up our firm love And make it shine like the brilliant sun of summer With its warmth, for stronger bonds to mend.

Eagle Gold México

Grain-Growers

18

"Grains of life" Raindrops, grains of sun that give us life garden teeth that fill every pore with energy, they are food, they are gold.

The farmer with his hands sows with sweat; your dedication gives it flavor and value.

Keys to the field satisfy the poor, the rich, beautiful as the Quetzal is worth more than any metal.

Let us honor humble work; Let us pay him with honor, every day he feeds us with infinite love!.

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TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9,March, 2021

It is the love that I feel in my heart Love for all my fellow men Compassion - and empathy

Joanna Svensson Sweden

In the shadow And so I have decided

I have drowned All of my words Drowned them with my inner thoughts Thoughts so pure and clean Clean as purest summer rain

To write and write With words of love So that mankind understands What it's all about at last That our lives here on earth Are just the blink of an eye And suddenly we all do swim In the great big lake of memories A lake of stars that shine More or less for all For each and everyone

Like gleaming drops of sunshine The sunshine that's lit my path Followed me through my life Because I wanted it that way

More if you have love in your heart And empathy for your neighbour But less if you are bitter Torned by evil and filled with revenge

I stepped away from the darkness From the evil of this world Though I know it isn't so That I haven't seen or realized

My weapon is love Love for all mankind Love for all my fellow men Love for all of nature Love for all in Universe

All the world's great misery All of its endless troubles Of war, starvation and scorn But in this world I'm armed With my sole and only weapon year I, no. 9, 2021, March

In the shadow of me In a shadow of my own Stars are clearly gleaming In the eyes of others Gleaming through my poems!

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In the shadow of me In a shadow of my own I stand alone And sometimes see Stars that are beaming In other people's eyes Stars that others do see But not me Because they start to glow In the eyes of others Through my poems

Already long ago To peacefully make war The only way I know

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021

Because its always here and now

The time and the roses You can not run away from it Who has said That all the roses there are Are all the roses there is All of them With fragrances yet unknown All of them With colors never seen Roses that no one ever seen or smelled But now I can see them On the other side of the mirror Where I sometimes go I can not yet describe them all Because no words are suitable enough Because the phases don’t exist Because the fragrances are unrevieled

20

But I know they will be born On the other side of the mirror.

When time is right When time has ripened And I know This time will soon be here While the light of life Still glimmers In my childish eyes So that I can describe its beauty Their astonishingly colors and scents Things that no one yet have felt or seen

Not ascape it – nor hide from it Just say it isn’t there It’s begging you – take me with you Take care of me ‘Cause I’ ll always be there with you And even if you don’t Tell no one my age I’ll always be tvere Right there – there where you are!

Selma Kopic Bosnia and Herzegovina

Your bride I wanted to tell you yes, to approach you in a white dress with the footsteps of a frightened deer, to throw a bouquet in the air and call myself yours for the rest of our lives.

Only your hand could lead me happily to heaven.

But the white dress for me was never tailored nor did your ring adorn my hand.

All of this is really just in my girlhood dream.

The waves of life took us to different sides.

Still, I am happy when I see happy brides.

For me, their happiness is a sign that happiness exists, but not to shed a tear, I find it hard to resist.

But you can’t push time to the future ISSN 2458-0198 - ISSN-L 2458-0198

TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9,March, 2021

Temitope Michael Omotoso Lagos

Myriam Ghezaïl Ben Brahim Tunis

Unfairness survey

Not so easy...

Like mice we are in this maze called world, Jostling for freedom with we could afford, Through my mind a question goes pop, Are these scrambles ever going to stop?

Just as the swell embraces the soft rays

We march as though it's time for war, Like pride of lions we tussle and roar, With heart of stones our objectives are clear, Success at all cost with no failure to bear.

Just like a story, told to a wise child.

From dawn, from the sun, after the stormy night, Just as words are born from my pencil,

Just like the quivering wave in his bed, Or like a beautiful eagle

Living like though we've got no choice, Unheard to world is the essence of our voice, Continuously we fight with no fair time to stop, Thorny is the path of our bustle to the top.

So hard to shake off yet with bravery we claw, Tigers we've become with the aggression of our paw, On we surge without the will to quit, Hard is life with no choice but live with it.

soaring through the air, And

this

myriad

of

established beauties From a generous and prosperous

Mother

Nature...

I love you, like the wind panting over the wheat Or the dew beading on a bouquet of roses, Like a child who sees a whole starry sky,

Most are fine with my types looking on, Like hyenas we scavenge for leftovers to choke on, It's like a hand grazing your skin, Rumble you must to lose your fumble, Your single with hardwork could get you a double. Or a frank look, far beyond the eyelashes.

I tell you the three words, the ideal ones, The hunter you are or the hunted to be?

Simply "I love you", it's not that easy...

More there is to life than the struggle we all see, Kings we want to be but are we ready to rule?

Scratch to the top would always remain cruel. year I, no. 9, 2021, March

21

Two more lovers who melt into osmosis...

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021

The mouth dried up in the refusal of the

Isilda Nunes

farewell,

Esponsende, Portugal

The roses withered The roses withered in the dryness of your gaze!

in this postponed death, suspended in the solitude of outstanding words!

I no longer dream of them, dear! I no longer cry!

The roses withered in the dryness of your gaze!

I no longer dream of them, dear! I no longer cry Kamrul Islam for them!

Our bodies, which were once but one,

Bangladesh

Today are wrecked in the solitude of

Language Of Silence

outstanding words.

I envelop myself in a interspersion of longing It still brings me to tears-- the palm-tree and and lethargy,

its shade,

Fixing the old clock still, in a

A long cry for the lost tune

time that once was ours...

of virginity

At a time when we loved

makes

each other like sea and sky.

unrest...

the

creepers

And I petrify myself on that horizon, where

my

Birds with its nest netted body

was

to fate and the fertile

moored as a boat.

tale would break the language of silence.

Reality deranges me!

Among the reeds and weeds of magicians’

Frenzied by the echo of your tread on bare

home

walls,

a frost-bit scorpion recites the sin and the

this implicit farewell in the disquiet of your hands

sinners

and in the downturn of your will!

in the same canopy.

The slow arrival of winter disturbs me!

It’s a drughouse, a mental crack thrives The roses you gave me have already withered! A blind bird wafting into the air

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The wet kisses of yore, now they are parched fault! to give another shore of mesmerizing days ...

All embrace is expired!

The language of silence smoothly transforms

And the grooves on my face exude spent the muddy desires into a journey of flowery memories,

dawn.

loose pieces of a plot that is no longer ours.

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TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9,March, 2021

Jeannie Ashton

Ibrahim Honjo Vancouver, Canada

Words can kill When the darkness swallows everything you hold dear and your arms can't reach to pull them back to be near

How i built my own inferno I know that you will not show up and I will die alone there, where grass does not grow and water does not overflow

When everything starts fading away before there, where there are no birds your very eyes not even crickets, or colourful butterflies to a dark place where painful teardrops fall where scrolls do not swarm in the evening and never dies as they swarm in the season of mulberries Then loneliness wraps its in my big backyard self around you holding adorning night particles so tight and making a necklace and the coldness sets into out of them your body too cold to even fight I will die there, where no one dear to me will come When the end is your only there, where you cannot friend that you're waiting for anticipate, seas, or rivers what's the use going on knowing you can't take there, where the sky anymore hangs like a hook above furious rocks My shallow breathing from the poisonous air of sadness there, where there is clay dust congregating with darkness in a spittoon full and groaning fades between rocks of madness there, where rain lingering on stones is falling Bittersweet words of venom lashing out to the from the sky heart and washing away its blue like a dagger cutting each other deeply so far apart I will die in the silence Deadly silence after the storm lifts pieces of hate I've built for myself knowing that every tomorrow will now be too late from pieces of stale loneliness I'm hurting so bad I cannot lie the world is dying and so am I

23

Bolton, England

this is how my inferno looks there, so look at my inferno

year I, no. 9, 2021, March

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021

Lomas Kumar Bhatt.

India

24

The Eyes Of Heaven: Devastated demarcation in life's horizon, Shown in nature's perpetual presentation, Of new beginnings upon old debris, Deaths glorified on it's reincarnations, Of course the beauty & glory of the nature, Rest itself in the realms of the Blessings, Pellet-drum pronouncing, Announcing aloud, Heaven's garden blooming a sot, Flora & fauna become petals of pearls, Ocean's tears transform into nectar, With all worldly grif & sorrow satires, Now nectar turns to rhythmic laughter, Pellet-drum's miracles, Makes heaven magical, Aghora's joggling galactic twisting, No man's land now ceremonial ground, Mountain's rock thrilling in pulses, Freezing vain alive, Dead dancing on worldly satire, I too embracing dancing at random, On the grounds of countless skulls, At mid of the land & skies, Sudden a twisting fire hit on my nerves, Oh no! I'm in the mid of the pyre, On her chest she sleeping silently, At the center of the universal pyre, Now she awake with full of the zest, Pellet-drum announcing, Awake in your quantum,

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Across Her in arms, Fly beyond trance, I'm here to welcome you grand, Sudden I find myself, On the gate of the heaven, Third Eyes smiling, Her lips too, Secrets hold!

Gerlinde Staffler Italia

Living Eart... The breath of Gaia Gaia, a humming bird, flutters joyfully as does life on a green breathing planet, reserved for a strong pulsating strive, an organism that intuitively generates, in steady evolution its own story creates One living system, which does habitually excel where even the smallest and proudest cell composes with swinging participation the picture of a miraculous and moving creation With this extraordinary innate intelligence a sentient body, capable to tune into its own flows, requests to embrace a moral conscience where each guest life preservation shows

TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9,March, 2021

Tutin, Serbia

Don't follow my steps anymore they are empty as autumn rains which I don't like anymore Parting I'm also proud of the pain you left me big as a mountain and you stayed just as a providence of imagination and dream and a short romance from spring to autumn

Please... don't touch me with memories and dreams which no longer waiting in line to dream of them Nwankwo Victor Avic because the rains have washed away all my verses Nigeria dedicated to you Merchants of and my rhymes run away when I mention you lies name.

The media now peddles Don't come again in the more lies than Satan mornings of dreamy city As politicians speak from under an old linden tree under their noses. that shrouded us in the The supporting pillars of shadows this manor are volatile. it no longer smells like They sordidly sits on your hands sandy soil. and like the music of your No welfare for the minors. lips As the strong scramble for the spoils. don't let you birds land on the roof of my This head is too heavy for the legs. house As the looting spree is unabated and writes messages that love is eternal.

The change mantra is a mirage.

Green harvest but red pocket.

Please...

Just handshake for excellence don't go out in to the night alone And big encomium for indolence. that we would not meet by chance They squander with reckless abandon. because secret chambers of my soul are closed Leaving the rest in squalor. for you.

Hospitals are like moribund morgues. only wounds ramained Education is like a walking corpse which cannot be cured by time The living are bankrolled by the dead. learn to live with them Even repatriated loots are being relooted. and be my chapter Bandits are in red carpet treat. for some distant story.

With kidnappers on the rampage. year I, no. 9, 2021, March

25

Refik Martinovic

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021

Smiling home with handsome ransom.

As terrorists claim more lands The chaos queries our pedigree.

With wailing and unquenchable flow of tears.

I hope to sing again for my land.

When sanity has embraced our quests.

When the thirsty minds are satisfied with facts.

When fears and uncertainties has taken to their heels.

And have all decimated this ugly hill Then love will breed more truth and less lies.

Chandan Bhattacharya.

India

26

"Suicide" Friend.....

You are very established In society today ... So not!

You've house, dollars, cars, wealth, Boys are established, Girls are married to good guys, Everyone is very respected in society, Your wife loves you so much ....

Let take a test and see !

Don't die pretending to die!

When you see, Then you understand, who loves you so much?

Maybe your children will continue To share your property, Maybe your wife will calculate, ... What you have left for her !

Then, in shame, hatred, humiliation, Neglect, misunderstanding.......

When you are crying You will see a thrilling scene......

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Your wife is in love with her ex-husband. What do you do then?

What would a friend say!

Will commit suicide!

What will happen to it!

Do not commit suicide!

The body will die.

The body will be taken to the grave Or cremation ground.

Where can the soul go?

The soul will only suffer.

One-third of the trouble Will rotate in the chest, rotating.......

And he will say in his heart Why he has not remembered God In his lifetime!!

Kamal Dhungana India

The Red You always disliked it; the RED color I found out later, you had always disliked those red roses of valentines.

I wrote to you with my blood.

You disliked those red love letters.

You even disliked the red sindoor, I had brought to adorn you.

One day You, caught in an accident; were in need of blood.

After your relatives' refusal, how come you accepted my blood?

How did you like your colorful life survived with my blood?

After all, that too was RED in color!

TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9,March, 2021

Auwal Ahmed Ibrahim

It is not sellable, For no one can afford, Bogdana Găgeanu

If the Moon Can Talk In this wee hour of time, We are all alone here, The sun has gone to bed, Only deep snoring disturbs, The sky looking gracious, Beautiful in black attire, Illuminating looking by, The sky is admirable, If the moon could talk, If the sky can say a word, If the moon can appreciate love, The moon will commend our love, All alone we are here, With the sun and the sky, Having a beautiful moment, The feeling is oozing, My love for you is very big, Bigger than any ocean, Vast than any mountain, Flowing into me like spring, With you I am happy, By your side I smile, In your arms I am satisfy, With you I am complete,

Romania

Cupid strikes My fountain was just empty And you refilled it.

You poured some love And some affection.

It took some time for me To understand your feelings And to feel your blessing In my life.

But now,I am not thirsty any more Because I drink all day Just kisses from your lips.

I know it must be Cupid .

My life is an art My life is an art.

I breathe like there's a second I paint with my lost colours I write with my last words I walk,as if I will not return I sing, as if my heart is crying I dance, as if my music stops I worship my life.

My soul and my heart Are guiding me And make art a way of living Art has made me free!

27

Nigeria

If the moon can talk, My love for you is forever, year I, no. 9, 2021, March

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021

Shantos Kumar Biswa

28

The old Age

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9,March, 2021

year I, no. 9, 2021, March

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021

Ramesh Chandra Pradhani India

Mladen M. Tokić Croatia

The brave

Dreams of white margarets

The brave are the ones who always speak the truth Till the last breath of life Who can raise the voice against injustice Fight for solidarity and divine peace.

Always the same steps Drops of autumn rain Steps generous Holiday wind footsteps Which resound with prayer Always the same bells The brave are the ones who never desire The white snow excess Of a small Irish streets Live for others and leave Freckled lonely face ways for others to progress Always the same steps Keep one's heart open to Rains that falling greet all in process Rains pouring down Nowhere or nobody can Over cheeks of tanned suppress as blessed with Down a stone breast god's grace.

Gold ruddy Irish women

30

The brave are the ones who controls five senses Can tackle all situations applying commonsense Ready to compromise and adjust not to disgrace Both friends and foes, smiles and tears they heartily embrace

Always the same steps The boys concern October without sun

Starless wars Unmarked generals Soldiers in ranks The soldiers march One by one Step by step The brave are the ones who are self satisfied Drop by drop Neither in happiness overjoyed nor in fear The footsteps echo sorely horrified Always the same sounds Dedicate themselves for the betterment of Mouth full of earth society The laughter that comes For the sake of mother land, language, culture From an unknown room and humanity Sunken cities Missing ships Floating wrecks

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TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9,March, 2021

Always the same steps Always the same dreams From white margarets Wedding snows Spring is my darling The light is now going out The fingers that cover us Our hopes and fears Muhammad Abdul Wahid Bangladesh

Majestic Women Woman - are Mother Daughter and Wife Without them the world is an illusory life.

If Women are always with us without gaps We can succeed by taking strong steps.

Beauty never make a woman beautiful Quality of lifestyle source to besuccessful.

Those Who with great mind do great deed They are majestic in society indeed.

trampling the peak of Himalayas where wild air is blow.

Sometime sink in the sea to find perls no fear or shy.

Ride Rockets to fly to find edge of the sky.

Sometime woman are bravely heroin To protect the just and right.

Someday they are the source of courage.

Laughing in battling fight.

Some time they are proudly nobel laureate, Some tome they are rhythmic poet They stand for humanistic cause, any where Some time they are pleasant singer.

Woman draw art the on wooden piece.

Design the flowery blanket with mental peace.

Sometime woman are in playground and sometime helping peasants.

Captain of family with a mood of pleasant.

Woman go to the river bank water pot.

They fill the pot with water and swim a lot.

The great women are profecient in all fields They are soft and sweet to speak mellifluously they are well skilled

After all their duties done they meditate toward Lord, They are decent and modest in and out, never become bored.

In family and in society the keep their dignity protected.

Sometime fly toward moon destination is Every home be blessed with birth of such majestic women as it is heavenly expected. unknown.

Some time they’re busy in paddy field to harvest Jute-rope made various cottage industries Without rest.

Sometime designing dishes, or weaving dress.

Sometime making clay oven for cooking the best.

year I, no. 9, 2021, March

31

On an unfinished mask On a dusty map Of a forgotten universe

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021

Voula Memou Grecia

Beggars of the Gods of the poor

Petrică Tatu România

The years passed quickly

32

The years passed quickly God is so high up to hear me and I am so small and unredeemed, I leaned on the olive root, next to the demolished school of war.

I wanted to dream how lilies grow in the ruin.

I wanted the blood to be an illusion, but I was trembling.

I hear Hamza crying, for her damn cloth doll.

The Cyclops had been alienated, by abandonment, like ships that die late to the erroneous memories.

Rusty scrap metal, of old fairy tales.

And you ... Iniohe, travel charmer, in Delphi to make me a pilgrim and consuls of peace.

Pull the chariot, let's pull from East and West, we were the land of the Dragon, to drive the peoples of injustice, with seeds of hope.

To build brotherhood colonies.

Asandali, I will live in the yards as much as possible, with jasmine the rockets of guilt, I will be filled.

But I'm so small, before the great God of sinless victims.

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I was left with memories, With dear moments and joys From past loves.

You were so happy You had sunbeams in your eyes, I really wanted you to be my girlfriend And to give you many roses.

I tell you from the bottom of my heart that I loved you You were good and innocent, I cheated on you, I was enchanted And I fell in love with another girl And so from love to love Now with regret I remember, That I walked from flower to flower And now I pay for love.

TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9,March, 2021

Birendu Kumar Sinha

We walk through the late summer rain, Laughing, loving us like two crazy young men, India We sink into pleasant drunkenness, When life turns full with With fleeting kisses among the acacias.

Time becomes heavy all efforts in vain Laden under the load of misery profound Don't feel crestfallen down on the ground All we need is support and consolation A sweet sessions of silent seclusion To seek solace of cool illumination Woes and worries relegated into oblivion Listen to the far forgotten musical numbers Or fall into the lap of waking slumbers A soothing solace of complete oblivion Floating adrift in blissful communion Close your eyes and sit in meditation Enjoy the glory of blissful communion Mariana Kiss Romania

The frame of heaven Spears of light, furrows the sky, Thunders of celestial drums, yes asparagus ...

You hug me facing the ether, Wrapping myself in the wide overcoat.

The sky sheds its tears too harshly, Strongly hitting the hot cobblestones.

Only the story of the rain can be heard And our hearts, which beat hard. year I, no. 9, 2021, March

The rain gathers its feet everywhere, The rainbow takes the place of the cloudy clouds, We are still wet, we want to touch the colors ...

You don't want your body untied.

We run through the colorless belts, Without paying too much attention.

The universe cried, now laughs again Covering us with his handkerchief.

Apu Mondal India

Your name, this day Your deep black eyes See my inner feelings Your aged, freckled, Spotted face reminds Me of sea bed corals So beauteous, serene, Your warm smile is The spring of life and Light. I want to think More on you. Your Thoughts brought Deluge and hope in Those days. Now you Sit by my side, holding Hands, reminding me Of eternal love etched On sun dyed rocks.

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stress and strain

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021

Marivic Nemi

Ganimete Jakupi Demiri

Philippines

Switzerland.

Benefits Of Mankind Beep sound of atmosphere..

Extended direct duration..

How awkward to be complacent..?

An obscure bout to reveal..

Instead of being haunted by dimness..

Give it a try for perspicuity..

You were the star which lighted my nights, With your affection I felt high in the sky, You were the sun of my day, Which warmed my heart in everyway.

You were the best symphony of my life, Like beautiful melody of

None of earthborn are obtuseness...

Moreover in the sharp of edges..

Moxart,

Research for all the benefit of mankind..

Inconspicuous child of the sun...

comfort.

Our quirks and deeds not supposed to the land ..

Yet the silence ameliorative, supportive as declaring glory..

me,

All the creations can hold together..

By the source of thy voice...

In sequence soliditary...

Let us eradicate viciousness..

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I miss you

You were a professional actor of my heart, And you made me felt

Now I miss you everyday, Since you are left from I think and talk with myself, Why this love without goodbye ended.

Please turn me on - I am waiting for you, Please love me as I do, Back my smile like before, You stole my heart with your enchanted love.

Immediate action of goodness was imperative...

As looking forward for the tremendous shadow of futurity..

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9,March, 2021

Šolkotović Snežana,

Assam,India

That wall there...

That wall there knows every secret of the soul, knows every tear that rolls down a person's cheek, those bridges of patience in a nightmare as they crumble, the despair and pain that imposes defeat.

That wall hears every word that pierces the heart and insults with its weight, he also knows the answer to what you used to be what have you turned into now, who are those people who supposedly love you and in the most difficult situations they turn their backs on you.

He knows everything about you, your quiet cries rapid heartbeat struggling with pain, record all the opportunities in your life, slaps that speak for themselves.

That wall there has been your friend for a long time and wishes you a peaceful sleep at least once, drawing a line for the end is not that simple, nor hell that makes you worthless That wall over there ... keeps your secret, and who knows how many more, say once - stop despairdon't let your life be made worse by scum ...

year I, no. 9, 2021, March

My letter to nora Nora, how do you feel now Have you ever seen our dreamed sky Where we could freely fly You are the new women Pioneering the feminist movement Following you We have been launching a journey Delving to the said sky Walking out through the door Of your Doll's house Opened by you Closing the door of sorrowful house Raising the curtain of that Black era Do you feel We the women are in happiness My dear Nora Can you imagine We are now free and safe You see, when our girl child Go alone on Street Then we mothers Could not sleep In the jungle of so called civilization Tigers hide in shape of human If they get chance Come out and steal their virginity Brutally done molestation

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Srbija

Punya Devi

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021

Do you mind it In sometimes If something bad rotten in society Women are supposed as omen Then treat them as inhuman Women are burn for endowment They are given punishment Till now girls are treated as goods For sale and buy So how far our Freedom of sky Your father Henrik Ibsen Made you bold Because he understands What is women soul But still now impacts seems everlasting What said by his predecessors Shakespeare is shouting ' Frailty thy name is women' Tennyson is flattering 'Men to war and Women to maternity'

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All such mirrored Became inscription As well as tradition Partly for these rock lines Our road to sky Become serpentile And hanging in the balance Like an interjection.

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Gerlinde Staffler Italy

Pearls of Longings This vast widely felt horizon Immerses its longings in the scintillating sea, Where diving in, cool pearls bring along, Warmed up from the sunrays of thee.

Oh shells of beauty holder, You whisper gallant secrets to my ears Of magical rows of water lilies, Where drops of dew are gems, not tears.

Lulled by the watching terse sky, Feelings roll in opaline dances, Touched from the beholder's azure eye, In the haven of our golden fancies.

Adepoju Adeola Nigeria.

Peace we need.

Earth has even wore the sad attire, Pleading to the combatants to cease the fire, The casualties have even cried and tired, For their souls have continue to wandered, The war-mongers should come over the fury, Of what benefit will be the state of gory?

Stop the war and preach the peace, For the word need to be at ease..

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9,March, 2021

I move them like a heavy tower with my bare hands to keep them from sinking I extend my hand and seek the voice of reason in the game of destiny

Amb. Maid Corbic Bosnia Herzegovina

Last smile

Good story and good memories engraved in the photos Colorful colors in modern times, we see their wrinkles How they roll and mute in worry, and it’s hard to endure it all

year I, no. 9, 2021, March

I am dancing, friend is talking, Insects are creeping, animals are grazing, The grass is growing, the stream is flowing, Come spring come, run friend run.

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The last smile, as if it were yesterday, was Engraved in a pale photograph covered with persistent Everything that is good and bad, happens and hoarfrost and dust We languish palely in our dilapidated room, passes somehow And we are left with only memories engraved motionless in the photo Silence, covers thoughts vague Cover it with hoarfrost and dust in a And as his heart flutters, he needs a strong dilapidated room Stationary; swing of his wings To revive all old Because life has no memories retrospective, and I’m still Everything will be as it looking for us used to be before it could And as his heart flutters, have been he needs a strong swing of Love to cover those little his wings things that meant To revive all old memories He always knows how to fix that sleepless night, Muhammad Ishaq and he knows the Moon Abbasi What secrets did life hide in the greatest debauchery and play Pakistan The emotion of the shallows, they stir night Come Spring Come and day for decades Living together while still searching for our Come spring come, run friend run, existence Stop spring stop, papa mama talk, Or the spiritualization of life, because in the The air is gentle, the sun is mental, Birds are chirping, people are thinking, end everything remains

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021

Annette (Wengert) Tarpley Virginia

The tale has now reached, its final crescendo A revealing remark made, with a hint of an innuendo

The Lantern of Clarity

Now all is exposed, it is the end...the long awaited time....

What suspenseful journey, awaits you in this book The fear that it has elicited, the author would I will guide you with my lantern, together we find to be sublime will take a look Dr. Prasana Kumar Dalai The author has created, a suspenseful thriller for you Be prepared for him to kill off many, survivors will be few He will weave quite the story, his words form the web For the heiress was found to be dead...in her bed He is an artist that can create, imagery with his pen Interesting, characters are... the women and men You may think someone’s a villain, when really they are not The tale will twist and turn, understanding and clarity will be sought If you’re reading at night, you may be more apt to be scared You may be shocked to have found, someone’s life to be spared

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Darkness...he continues to paint, on his canvas with black The Butler may have done her in, quite the erroneous act Here, let me light the path better...so you may then view The terror and the carnage, into this book he has threw ISSN 2458-0198 - ISSN-L 2458-0198

India

Like desert miss the rain!

I stop of the train...

I am walking down your street again....

And pass your door....

But you don't live there any more...

It's a year since you have been there....

And now disappear some where...

Like out of space....

You found some better place...

Like desert miss the rain....

You were always ahead....

I look up at your house....

And I can almost hear you.. shout down to me...

Where I always to be...

I have been hanging round your old address..

And the year have proved...

Can I confess?

And I miss you like desert miss the rain....

I can't stop the feeling...

And there is nothing I can do...

Because I see everything when I looked at you...

TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9,March, 2021

Šahdo Bošnjak Bosna i Hercegovina

Mokropoljske Magle 1. POGLAVLJE

– Hej, Sejfula!

– Stani, Sejfula! Drž’, ne dajte mu tamo!...

– Stani, bolan, Sejfula, da nam pričaš kako si ono prevrnuo udovicu Zlatu pa te darivala s deset madžarija!...

“Prepriječite mu put!...” “Oborite ga!...”

“Gurnite mu flašu u usta!...” “Drž’te ga!...” “Ne dajte mu da pobjegne!...”

“Veeežiite gaaa!...”

“Drž’tee gaaa!...” “Ne daaaj!...”

Bježi Sejfula kao da ga progoni sto vukova, trči, a sve mu se čini da i ne staje na zemlju već da je okrilatio pa leti. Leti, pa ne osjeća ni kao kandže oštre bodlje ostruga, što mu kidaju živo meso s obraza kad naiđe na bogaze. Ne osjeća ni kamenove međaše. Ni busenove suhe zemlje. Ni jarke za odvođenje viška vode s oranica. Ma, ne osjeća ni svoje bose raskrvavljene, bolne noge. Sav se pretvorio u čulo sluha. I nekakvo bestežinsko klupko. Pa leti, leti, brže i od strelovitog jastrebovog leta kad se ustremi na žrtvu. No, nikako da umakne razularenoj rulji mokropoljskih besposličara i sprdadžija, koji kao da i nemaju drugog posla nego da se sprdaju i iživljavaju na ovakvom jednom nesretniku i fukari.

– Drž’!...

– Nee daaaj!... year I, no. 9, 2021, March

I Sejfula trči dalje. Kao ona navijena dječija igračka, štono je izmislili Švabe, pa se sad njome igraju begovska, aginska i gazdinska djeca.

– Nee daaaj!...

– Obooriii!...

– Veeežiii!.. Čuje Sejfula na sve strane kako grmi i odjekuje, jače i od same grmljavine topova s mokropoljske tvrđave u vrijeme Ramazanskog ili Kurban-bajrama. U magnovenju se nekako uspio i pokajati što je ikako morao skretati u Hamzinu mehanu prije nego što ode Mujagi i uradi poslove. A svratio je nekako po inerciji jer se u mehani, pored mnoštva besposlenih mladića, uvijek nađe i poneki putnik namjernik ili pak neki ozbiljniji, stariji Mokropoljac, ili čak i neki pružni radnik, pošto je državna vlast u blizini Mokropolja napokon otpočela s gradnjom uskotračne pruge za eksploataciju drveta iz okolnih šuma. Oni bi se sažalili na Sejfulin jadan izgled, na njegove upale, ustakljene oči, na njegovu prljavopepeljastu kosu, na ispijene usne i drhtave ruke, ruke bolesnog alkoholičara, te bi mu poručili koji findžan rakije. Ili bi onako usputno, kao nehajno, odlomili od svoje meze koji okorak spečene, obajatile i kao balega crne pogače. Ugledniji gosti, kako ih je nazivao mehandžija, tad bi se povlačili, a Sejfulu bi pod svoje uzimala grupa već dobrano alkoholom zagrijanih mladića.

Oni bi, poput lešinara, čekali da Sejfula prvo dobro ućeifi na račun nekog milostivog gosta, a zatim bi bacili mamac na koji se on dao lahko upecati – ponudili bi ga findžanom ljute šljive.

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prose 25-46

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U početku rakijom i lijepim riječima namamili bi jadnika u svoju jazbinu, neki mračni mehanski budžak, gdje je obično sjedila oveća grupa besposličara, sve mladih, asija ljudi, begovskih, aginskih i gazdinskih sinova.

Većina njih su propali srednjoškolci ili studenti koji su se zbog ljubavi prema mehani, kocki i bekrijanju zauvijek odvojili od obrazovnih ustanova i omeđili svoju životnu sudbinu zaparloženom mokropoljskom palankom. Njima bi se prišuljali i ostali mokropoljski dokoličari i skitnice, znajući da će im u tom raspusnom društvu biti zanimljivo i ugodno.

I baš ovaj ludi Sejfula došao im je kao poručen.

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Sprva bi ga svi tapšali po ramenima, nutkali rakijom i mezom, dok se Sejfula ne bi okuražio i raspričao. A naučio je tako sigurno i tečno da priča, da kiti i veze, od kako je postao obavezan gost ili, bolje rečeno, obavezan inventar Hamzine mehane, da su mu riječi neupućenima izgledale kao najbezazlenija istina. Svašta je, jadnik, naučio u ovoj mehani, samo jedno nije: da se smije kao ostali gosti.

Istina, kad se društvo smije, smije se i Sejfula, samo što je njegov smijeh do te mjere izvještačen i neuvjerljiv da prije liči na meketanje ožalošćene koze negoli na ljudski smijeh.

– Me, he, he, he!... – razvlačio bi usta od uha do uha, i to je sve, i ništa se drugo na njemu nije smijalo kao kod ljudi koji se iskreno, od srca smiju. Naprotiv, baš tad bi mu se čelo nabralo, smračilo da su se obrve sastavljale, dok bi u očima bljesnule neke neuhvatljive

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iskre, svojstvene samo luđacima, izmiješane mržnje, bijesa i ironije, čineći ga još glupljim i komičnijim. A društvo bi ulazilo u onaj stupanj pijane razularenosti i raspojasanosti kad razum staje i kad se brišu sve granice obzira.

Tad Sejfulina koža ne bi vrijedjela ni pet para.

– Pij, Sejfula, bolan, majku ti!

I Sejfula bi morao da pije iako u njemu prilijeva, zapravo izlijeva, i na usta i u nogavice.

– Igraj, Sejfula, mečko ciganska!

Momku uistinu ništa drugo i ne bi preostalo nego da po ko zna koji put zaigra svoju igru, igru života i smrti. Igrajući oponašao je nesretnu zvijer, medvjeda igrača, koliko god mu to njegova ograničena pamet dopuštala. Isturio bi ruke naprijed, kao medvjed prednje noge, i mlatio njima tako snažno da ti se čini kako će se evo sad iščašiti iz ramena.

Istovremeno bi poskakivao s jedne noge na drugu, usukivao vrat da su mu sve žile nabrekle kao konopci, kreveljio glavu sad u jednu sad u drugu stranu, kao što to čini medvjed od boli izazvane zatezanjem halke u nosu. Pogled mu je bio ustakljen i izgubljen negdje u ćoškovima ispod stropa mehane. Štaviše je i mumlao, samo što su neartikulisani, tužni a otegnuti glasovi, što ih je ispuštao, djelovali stvarnije i bolnije negoli mumlanje ma kojeg cirkuskog medvjeda. Iz gotovo svakodnevnog iskustva s ovim kabadahijama znao je da mu sad život ovisi isključivo od sreće. Ali i od toga koliko će uspjeti da udovolji ćeifovima i niskim, moglo bi se reći, sadističkim strastima pijane TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9,March, 2021

kafanske rulje. Napose mladim gospodičićima: Dugo mu je trebalo da se snađe, pribere, pa čak begovskim, aginskim i gazdinskim sinovima. i otrijezni. A kad poseže rukom preko čela da – Slabo je to, hak, Sejfula! ‘Aman obriše znoj, te napipa ogromnu čvorugu i malu zabušavaš noć... hak, noćaske! – javi se, posjekotinu, iz koje je jedva primijetno izbijala štucajući i podrigujući, Ivica, mladić krv, i pošto najzad ugleda družinu kako se bledunjava, ispijena lica, upalih obraza i šeretski smije njegovoj nezgodi, on se, upalih, vodnjikavih očiju. Jedinjak gazde razbješnjen kao pas kome su oteli kost, sjuri Stjepka Franića, razmaženjak i sada već bivši prema Sejfuli, psujući mu majku kopilansku; te učenik trećeg razreda gimnazije. Jednom je ga svom žestinom raspali cipelom u stražnjicu kao slučajno navratio u Hamzinu mehanu, da jadni momak zaglavinja i koliki je dug zasjeo s veselom bratijom i tu ostao, zauvijek; poletje ravno u krilo Mehmedalije Čvorka.

– Hoja, Sejfula! Ne sij bostan!

– Klizav teren, ha, momčino!

– Ustani pa opet, delijo! – čuli su se glasovi iz svih grla.

Vrludajući od pijanstva, boli i osvetničke mržnje, Velija je ipak nekako natrefio sporedni izlaz i nestao u mrkloj noći. Pratio ga je urnebesan smijeh njegovih drugova, koji su – Dašta da pretpostavljali po šta je zabušava! Nema ništa, Velija otišao. I da prava asli, bez julara i zabava tek predstoji. degeneka!... – s nekom Samo, što je taj smijeh slatkom zluradošću prihvati Velija Budžaklić, prije sličio smijehu pećinskih ljudi ili glasanju sin Atifage Budžaklića, kulaka i vojnog zvijeri negoli na ljudski smijeh. liferanta. Sijevao je od pijanstva zamagljenim i Društvo je uguralo Sejfulu u sredinu, zakrvavljenim očima, škrgutao kao lopate tjeralo ga da pije rakiju naiskap i zagovaralo velikim a kao grablje rijetkim zubima dok se, raznim pitanjima kako im se ne bi izmigoljio i ustajući, obadvjema šakama oslanjao o klupu umakao. Čim bi pokušao da bježi, potpetljali bi što je škripala, jedva izdržavajući njegovu mu nogu, gurali ga jedni na druge i tako prema godinama nesrazmjerno krupnu ponovo vraćali u sredinu. Jadnik je slutio tjelesinu. Usput, onako pijan, zakači za nogu kakvo mu se zlo sprema, kolutao unezvijereno Ibre Soše, zaglavinja i svom silinom naleti na očima i sa strahom u srcu očekivao otkuda će zid sklepan od grubih hrastovih dasaka. U prvi se pojaviti Velija. A on se zaista i pojavio. mah pomisli kako se nalazi negdje na livadi u Zastao je koji časak na vratima, mrkliji od pustoj i hladnoj noći, jer je svud oko sebe vidio mrkle noći iz koje je dolazio. U lijevoj ruci bio samo bezbrojna jata zvijezda, dok se vrući mu je jular, a u desnoj kandžija. Na čelu, znoj, od jela, pića, veselja i toplote, po čelu i između dva oka, kao kod Indijki, isticala se leđima, odjednom preobrati u hladnu jezu. year I, no. 9, 2021, March

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kao da je prikovan za stolicu. Uzalud je gazda Stjepko sve pokušavao kako bi momka ponovo privolio knjizi i kući. A kad je uvidio da mu to najposlije neće uspjeti, počeo je naglo da kopni i pobolijeva. Naposljetku je skrhan i ojađen legao na postelju, prepuštajući sve poslove slugama. Otad kao da zajedno s njim kopni i nestaje i njegovo veliko imanje.

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crvena tačka; zapravo je to bila kapljica zgrušane krvi. Ugledavši ga takvog, mehandžija Hamza odbrza u prostoriju za pripremanje kahva te zakračuna za sobom vrata. Kako ništa ne bi čuo a ni vidio.

Priviknuvši oči na svjetlost, raširenih ruku i raskrečenih nogu Velija se polahko uputi prema Sejfuli. Glave malo iskošene udesno, zuba iskeženih, sličio je na gladnu zvijer puštanu iz kafeza dok se ustremljuje na svoju žrtvu.

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Ugledavši svog mučitelja, Sejfula instinktivno osjeti opasnost, diže obje ruke da se zaštiti i poče panično da uzmiče natraške, očajnički ispuštajući neartikulisane glasove: be, be, beee!..., a što bi se moglo protumačiti kao: ne, ne, neee!...

I kao što niko ne vidje da se gladni vuk sažalio na tužno blejanje bespomoćnog janjeta, tako ni u očima Velijinog, mržnjom i bijesom, izobličenog lica nije bilo ni iskre milosti dok se primicao bespomoćnoj, uzdrhtaloj žrtvi.

Bezizgledno bježeći natraške, žrtva natrapa na bešćutnu rulju od koje ga nekolicina ščepa za ruke i silno zavitla pravo u naručje čovjeku zvijeri. A on, vješt kroćenju pastuha, munjevito nabaci Sejfuli jular na glavu, potom mu jedan kraj ugura u usta, spretno napravi nekoliko čvorova i čvrsto pritegnu tako da se uže nesretniku, slično oštrici noža, duboko ureza u kožu. Oko šake lijeve ruke više puta omota slobodan kraj julara, a desnom rukom izmahnu: i šesteropleta kandžija poče zviždati, spuštajući se po Sejfulinom nesretnom tijelu.

Mučenik je samo stenjao i ječao, a gomila oko njega igrala je, navijala, urlala kao u transu te

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tako samo podsticala Velijinu mržnju i bijes.

Psujući žrtvi kopilansku majku, mučitelj je zamahivao sve jače, sve bješnje. A kad se šesterostruka zmija stade ovijati oko nesretnikove glave i lica i kad olovne kuglice na njenim krajevima počeše orati krvave brazde po njegovim dugo nebrijanim, upalim obrazima i čelu, rulja zanijemje. Iz Sejfulinih usta zajedno s bijelom pjenom pocurila je krv i kao crveno-bijele niti padala posvud po prljavom drvenom podu. Njegove oči, izbuljene i velike, kolutale su unezvijereno i tužno po drvenim licima, kao da bi da iskoče iz svojih duplji. Čuo se još samo neujednačen ritam njegovih bosih nogu, što su teturavo igrale svoju mučeničku igru. Uskoro ga i one izdadoše, kleknuše, i jadnik se prući nauznak po hrastovom podu. Kao da je nekom višom silom pokošen. Ležao je tako raširenih ruku i nogu, krkljajući zbog naviranja krvave pjene, koja je prijetila da ga uguši.

Družina se šutke uputi prema izlazu.

Jednog po jednog gutala je tamna zavjesa noći.

Velija se sagnu, hladnokrvno razveza jular, vrhom cipele snažno ćušnu Sejfulu u rebra i pomisli: “Ovo ti je za Zuhru!” Zatim se okrenu i odbrza za družinom u noć. Lice mu je bila prekrila tanka patina osvetničkog samozadovoljstva.

MANJE POZNATE RIJEČI: AGA – turski plemić; bogat i moćan čovjek. ASIJA – silan, ohol, naprasit čovjek. ASLI – sigurno, vjerovatno, zaista.

BOGAZA – uzak prolaz; razgrađena ograda ili živica. BEG – turski plemić; ugledan, bogat čovjek.

BUDŽAK – ćošak, kut, ćoše. BEKRIJANJE – pijančenje, opijanje.

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DEGENEK – fizička kazna, udaranje.

FUKARA – siromah, sirotinja.

JARAK – kanal za odvođenje vode. JULAR – povodac, oglavak za konja od pletenog užeta ili kože.

KURBAN-BAJRAM – jedan od dva najveća muslimanska praznika. KABADAHIJA – zamjenik dahije; nasilnik, siledžija. KULAK – vlasnik zemlje koja prelazi zakonom dozvoljen maksimum.

MADŽARIJA – starinski novac. ME(J)HANA – ugostiteljski object; kafana. ME(J)HANDŽIJA – vlasnik me(j)hane.

she claimed, Cossack ancestors from Zaporozhye. However, she was Russian, she thought in Russian, and she pronounced her name in Russian – Marina, not Maryna. She spoke Ukrainian sparingly and only when absolutely necessary to her friends. Like all of them, she tried to talk to Marek, not very much in Polish, adding Russian phrases from time to time.

She bore the name of the “Polish tsarina”, famous in Ruthenian legends, the wife of False OSTRUGA – loza ili list kupine.

Dmitry (Lzhe-Dmitry) who, after murdering PASTUH – neuškopljen konj za prijeplod. PATINA him, was forced to leave Moscow, and joined a – zelenkasta hrđa na nekim metalima. certain Cossack chieftain.

NEARTIKULISANE – neodređene, neuobličene.

RAMAZANSKI BAJRAM – jedan od dva najveća muslimansk praznika.

Maria Stępień

Marina At that time, Marek was a guardian of foreign student exchange groups on behalf of the university and the Association of Polish Students. He spoke with them alternately in Polish and Russian, and learned Ukrainian on the go.

When the time of departure was approaching, he and the students from Lviv were chatting over a Crimean wine with the perky name of “Chorny Polkovnik” (Black Colonel). He began giving them nicknames.

The fawn, Slavic, wide-in-hip Oksana he called “Kamysh” – that is reed, rushes. Something swayed by the wind, that was how he thought about it.

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But THIS Marina was in no way associated with the adventurous SADIST – onaj koji uživa “Polish tsarina”. She was da muči druge. reserved, modest, full of ŠVABE – narod iz Švapske. hidden, slightly oldTRANS – ekstaza; zanos, fashioned charm. ushićenje.

Beautiful, slender and UĆEIFITI – početi se delicate, black-haired. In osjećati ugodno, zadovoljno. the whole group, she was ZAKRAČUNATI – the only one from Kiev. zatvoriti kračunom.

She seemed to be isolated Mirosław Grudzień in the group of Lviv residents, she only hung out with a little Poland Jewish girl with deer-like eyes - Roza Translated by Mirosław Grudzień & Anna Feltzman.

“That I can't stand on my own feet, look Marina was from Kiev. A pure-blooded for support like ivy? Am I so shaky?” she asked, Ukrainian woman after her great-greatsuddenly sad. grandfathers, since generations. She had, as year I, no. 9, 2021, March

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Marina was named by Marek in Russian: “Farforovaya Chashka”, a cup from porcelain.

The Lviv girls brought with them such eastern drinking cups with a delicate and exotic blue pattern; such eastern green tea cups were fashionable in the Soviet Union at that time, they were made in Central Asian Uzbekistan, in the city of Samarkand, whose even the name itself carried an aftertaste of a legend.

“Welcome,” he heard behind his back, “how are you doing, young man?” she asked a bit wryly and narrowed her eyes with a delicate smile.

“Why do you have such a dark look?

Worried about something?”

“A little. I didn't find some important papers that I needed.”

“Then lighten up. Let's think of Before they returned to Lviv, they gave him a wooden, folk Hutzul spoon as a souvenir, something more interesting than your books and signed it. “With this spoon always drink and papers on this evening.” kvass and remember us.” To this they added a Marek invited her to the Ateneum recording of an old folk song that Marek liked Theater, to the performance of Giraudoux's to listen to: “Electra”, with wonderful performances by famous Polish actors and Black eyes like blackthorn actresses.

Black eyes like blackthorn When will we get married?

II

44

He thought he would never see Marina again. And yet he met her again, at the end of his studies, three years later, in Warsaw... at the National Library. He browsed there through the books for his master's thesis, through manuscripts from the 17th century. He lived in a dormitory of the University of Technology.

She, in turn, invited him to the dormitory the next day and introduced him to her colleagues, Ukrainians from Dnieper Ukraine and Transdnieper.

They sat them at the table, offering backfat and Ukrainian vodka.

The topics of the conversation varied, about Lviv at one moment and about Kiev at another one. They spoke mainly Russian, but some of them spoke also quite good Polish. They did She began her studies at the University not hide their reluctance towards their of Warsaw and lived in a university dormitory. compatriots from the vicinity of Lviv… from She spoke Polish well, but out of old habits, Halychyna, as they called this area. To Marek’s surprise, he realized that the Ukrainian nation they switched to Russian at certain points. is not even half as uniform as the Polish.

They made an appointment at the exit of “Drink, Marko, brother,” said Mykola. Świętokrzyska street to Marszałkowska street. He was standing next to the appointed “And eat it, backfat is good. We have never newsstand and, out of boredom, he read the vodka without backfat. You are an honest guy.

We will never betray you. Live long and shop signboards one by one. prosper!”

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With wheat vodka still buzzing in their “I told you that on Tuesday I would kiss you forty times...”she accompanied with her heads, they went for a walk around the campus. They both staggered on their feet, at clear and resonant voice, smiling. one point he hugged her He wondered what waist lightly ... without throats they had there – any special thought, as if three boys and one girl, instinctively. She released quite randomly chosen ... herself stiffly. and a beautiful choir “I'm not used to it,” came out. He asked them she uttered the sentence about it. in Polish, like a lesson “We have been learned ... but softly and Orthodox for centuries in gently enough so that he central and eastern did not feel offended. She Ukraine. Instruments are seemed to be convinced not used in the church, that such confidential only the human voice. And we sing a lot... then gestures towards girl friends are nothing out we are said to follow the angelic choirs in of the ordinary in the case of Polish young heaven. That is why the faithful participate men. more in the church service than in your Obediently, he withdrew his hyperactive country...Yes, and even simple people have been trained in singing ... for a thousand years, hand. She asked him about Wlodek, who, during their previous stay, was the guardian of from Olga and Vladimir the Great.” student groups, who had travelled with them They repaid him with the song Green to Krakow and Warsaw three years earlier Ukraine in Polish. In order to honour the hosts during a trip included in the cultural and in a particular way, he initiated a song to the tourist program. words of Shevchenko: At that time, Wlodek and Marina were “The wide Dnieper roars and groans ...” constantly together. They appeared a good They got up and sang while standing as if pair when you looked at them. He resembled a it were an anthem. character from a famous Polish painting: a year I, no. 9, 2021, March

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... “Give a Cossack your hand,” Marek The next day, when he walked Marina to interrupted him, citing a famous poem by the hostel, they were already waiting for Shevchenko, a Ukrainian national poet. them... they liked him, it seemed. They took “... and give a pure heart”... and again, advantage of refreshments, drank something with the name of Christ, we will rebuilt our and snacked, promising to return the favour. paradise.” finished Dmytro, who had been But it lasted much shorter this time, they excused themselves politely, said goodbye... seriously silent so far.

Together with them he sang a cheerful already on the stairs Marek and Marina looked song, “You Have Deceived Me”. Marina joined at each other with a relieved and knowing smile. in eagerly.

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lancer and a girl. Unfortunately, when you got “I think you like the boys from the to know Wlodek better, he was far from Polish Security Service?” he asked coldly, genuinely lancers. irritated.

46

Marek tried not to answer, but she “No, why! The devils stand behinds insisted. Finally, impatient, perhaps under the this...and human harm, pain. But I feel sorry influence of the alcohol he had drunk, he said: for Wlodek”.

“Oh, Marina. You still talk about this He fell silent, helpless.

Wlodek. And I ... I'm on a walk with a beautiful He walked her to the room. She looked girl. I came such a long way to you ...” into his eyes and said softly: “Do not lie, you shutnick (joker),” she “Do not be angry. interrupted him. “You came to the library, to ... “No, no. I am not,” he replied gently. rummage in manuscripts from the She opened the door and said in Russian: seventeenth century...”

“Zakhodi (come in)”.

“That's too, for sure.

He entered the But I'd rather spend my corridor, convinced that time with you than with they would say goodbye the manuscripts. Do you in a moment. She did believe me?” he asked and approach, he took her looked into her eyes. into his arms in a friendly “Well, quite...” she manner just to kiss her smiled. cheeks... planning to leave After a while, soon. however, she became sad, She clung to him sighed and began with with her whole body. melancholy: “Obnimi. Embrace “Oh, Marek. You are a good boy. But what me,” she whispered. “Embrace me.” is Wlodek doing now?”

He did what she asked for. She kept He took a deep breath and said: repeating softly, as if a refrain, all night: “He's already graduated. He works for “Embrace me ... embrace me with all the secret police of our Polish People’s your strength... close me in your embraces ...”

Republic. The Biezopasnost (Security Service), do you understand?” it was easier for him, in a Polish version published in the bimonthly way, to talk about it in her language, not his. It magazine LUBLIN 2014) was all absolutely true, but anyway, somehow he felt shabby having said that.

“Of course,” she said softly. After a moment she added glumly: “Biezopasnost ... but this is a dangerous job. Very dangerous.”

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Raúl Bolaños Romero Mexico

PINOCHO: An initiatory novel.

Few are those who know that Pinocchio, the wooden doll out of the mind and creativity of the Italian writer Carlo Lorenzo Fillipo Giovanni Lorenzini; better known by his pseudonym Carlo Collodi, it is not a children's story. In fact, by its length it is a novel, but its alleged childhood plot is no more than the vehicle through which Collodi tried to deliver a deep spiritual, initiatory, esoteric and inner and personal development message.

Indeed, the first thing that would have been pointed out is that the author, Carlo Collodi, was a member of the Masonic Order, an institution that guards and studies the ancient hermetic traditions attributed to Hermes Trimegistus, Gnosis, Qabbalah, Yoga, Pythagorean mathematics, etc. Collodi wrote "The Adventures of Pinocchio" that was published in 1882, under a convulsive atmosphere in the Italian reunification that was also directed by another Freemason José Garibaldi.

A superficial analysis of the work reveals an apology for education and a denunciation of vice and laziness. Ideals typical of Western culture, but which are inescapable mandates for esoteric orders.

initiatory teachings of the tale.

It should be noted that in those years or times gone by, Freemasonry was really constituted for the integral development of human consciousness, everyone taught them the initiatory path, they did not seek personal power but to be free internally and externally and so expressed it in this wonderful tale.

Today all this is lost and they only seek the power and domination of the masses with extraordinary knowledge that great teachers left us as an inheritance.

SYMBOLOGY OF THE TALE OF PINOCHO.

The tale of Pinocchio is the story of the Human Soul on its journey of spiritual evolution. Pinocchio is created under the influence of two characters, one male and the other female, which symbolize the two aspects of God. It is carved by the carpenter Geppetto and the Fairy Blue which gives it life.

At the same time, the Fairy chooses a cricket named Pepe and entrusts him with a mission: to stay with Pinocchio and be his conscience; This means that God places with each soul the consciousness of the truth, which always accompanies it within itself.

Geppetto's greatest wish is for Pinocchio to become a real boy. And he knows that his wish can only come true if Pinocchio learns and grows, so he sends him to school; This represents our development, which is a lifelong learning process.

Pinocchio walks out the front door led by Walt Disney, who immortalized this his father, and he does so loaded with purpose, story in animated films, was also a Freemason. with the deep longing to become something With some variations on Collodi's original superior: a real child. plot, he tried to maintain the esoteric and year I, no. 9, 2021, March

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essay 47-51

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But when he goes out into the world problems arise. Making use of his newfound freedom, Pinocchio makes some wrong decisions, and succumbs to the temptation of pride as it is said that he allows himself to be carried away by his ego or by the 7 deadly sins.

Despite Jiminy Cricket's protests. He follows John the Honored and joins a circus troupe. The fundamental characteristic of the soul is free will, which is power at all times to choose.

In the theatrical representation of him Pinocchio receives great applause, and he is very happy, but after the performance he is locked in a cage. Letting ourselves be carried away by pride, by the "I" (ego), can give us pleasure, but in the long run it always produces pain, because it enslaves the soul.

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The Blue Fairy comes to him, asking the cause of her confinement, and Pinocchio tries to justify himself before her by telling lies; But with every lie he tells her nose grows. Then Pinocchio discovers that evil cannot be hidden, and honestly acknowledges his mistakes, repenting of them. The same happen with us; As long as we justify ourselves and do not acknowledge our mistakes before God and before ourselves, we cannot learn.

The Fairy then frees him and receives another chance. Jiminy Cricket is determined to help Pinocchio stay on track, but it doesn't take long for new temptations to present themselves.

Juan el Honrado reappears, inviting you to the Island of Pleasure, a place where children can have fun all day and satisfy all their desires. Pinocchio cannot resist the attraction of traveling to the Island and joins

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the group. Our great temptation is not to have to exert ourselves, to receive everything for nothing.

And it happens that when Pinocchio and the other children have been on the Island for too long, they begin to turn into donkeys and forget even to speak, the donkey represents the mind and this was shown by the greatest initiate of all time when he entered Jerusalem mounted in the donkey, it is the human intellect, the mind that dominates or rides you.

The same happens with the human soul, when it is brutalized by indifference and the permanent satisfaction of desire; he forgets who he is and what his mission is.

Over and over again Pinocchio reaps what he sows. His bad actions lead him to an unhappy life, where the doll pays for the karma generated with suffering. But Pinocchio realizes in time. When he discovers that donkey ears and tails are growing out, he goes to Jiminy Cricket to ask for help.

This saves him, because Jiminy Cricket knows how he can escape from the Island. As soon as they are free they start looking for Geppetto. But they return to his house and discover that he has disappeared; he has gone looking for Pinocchio.

This image is of fundamental importance, since it makes us understand that not only are we looking for God, but that God is looking for us. Pinocchio receives indications about the whereabouts of his father. He can find it at the bottom of the sea, in the belly of a great whale that swallowed Geppetto's boat. The marine animal is an ancient symbol of the reconciliation of spirit and matter. The sea is a symbol of the unconscious. Thus, the story tells us that we TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

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will find our spiritual inspiration, our true beach, he finds next to him the lifeless body of nature, in our own unconscious self, deep his son Pinocchio who does not survive the within ourselves. fury of the ocean and finally drowns. This Remember the biblical passage of Jonas death of the doll is the "mystical death" of the who lives in the belly of the whale here is more profane being initiated, the total death of the ego or of the 7 deadly sins. wisdom of the soul.

When Pinocchio and Jiminy Cricket look for Geppetto in the sea, he is swallowed by the same whale. The interior of the whale represents the Masonic chamber of reflections, the descent to the center of the Earth. In her womb there takes place a joyous reunion of Pinocchio with his father, but they soon realize that they must escape to continue together in daylight and on dry land. In other words, our spiritual journey does not end when we begin to reconnect with our spiritual depths in our dreams, in our prayers, or in our meditations.

Very upset, he takes him home and puts him on the bed. But the boy's action of love, giving his life for his father, has made him worthy of being a real boy. He is resurrected and his destiny is thus fulfilled; be a real child.

In the story, Pinocchio has a plan. He comes up with a way to escape, which requires a lot of strength and courage, and he succeeds.

But when they are in the middle of the sea, Geppetto seems to be drowning and Pinocchio sacrifices himself to save him. And this is precisely the key, what will make him worthy of being a real child; selfless love.

wisdom and unfortunately this humanity has already lost the wisdom of the soul, it only addresses its mind and intellect, preventing its consciousness from acting in its daily life.

This tale is the symbol of our own journey of spiritual unfoldment. The meaning of life is that we go through the process of realizing our true nature in God. Conscious and cocreators.

It should be clarified that the ego has disguised itself as the attributes of consciousness and now believes that it is the cricket that speaks to it inside when it is the When the other's need is more ego that does. important than mine, when “I” cease to be me Many stories tell the story of the state of and the center of my life, the door opens that human unconsciousness and that within it gives way to the miracle. there are the 7 deadly sins (the ego) this same

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The whole key to this is love, the selfless offering, which in turn means the renunciation of the personal and selfish “I”. The purpose of life The next step is to shared by all men is to bring this higher state of manifest the infinite in consciousness into daily the finite, bring the divine life, and that is often the to the human, and give hardest part.

By individual expression to candlelight, Pinocchio meditates on his fate our spiritual qualities. and decides to change, leaving his past of There are more stories that call them unconsciousness behind.

Fairies but they are the living symbol of inner

When Geppetto returns to himself on the is described in all the religions of the world year I, no. 9, 2021, March

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and ancient cultures.

Zoran Radosavljević

The sleeping beauty, clear allusion to the consciousness that sleeps within the human Bosna i Hercegovina being and the 7 dwarfs of him. A beautiful princess who has to be rescued from a San dungeon and the knight who has to face the dragon that has her captive, a clear allusion to Hvala ti sto si tu i dajes svetlosti trag... the conscience locked in the human hvala ti sto osecam tvoj miris blag... hvala ti sto subconscious and the dragon (the ego has her u vremenu trazenja... nadjosmo istinu o prisoner. nama... bajka samo nama znana..gde se val Doña blanca (conscience) encased in sudara o val... gde morske zvezde zele na pillars of gold and silver, terrible materialism. bal..gde ljubav srcem svira... ljubav je miris All are clear hidden messages, which in budjenja na livadi rosnih dodira... Negde other times could not be transmitted to izmedju postoji proslost trenutkom humanity directly, zapletena... Cutanjem ne because the inquisition postizemo nista ”niti burned them alive or on menjamo niti the rack. pokrecemo... cutanjem There are no jedno drugom u zagrljaj inquisitors anymore, but ne slecemo... Mora se that fear has been etched pricati da volis “i ako si in them and the mental sama u svojoj sobi” atoms have been passed razgovor u tisini sobe gde from generation to se pomalo bojis... generation that they are razgovor da se ne diabolical things or black predajes... da celu sebe magic, because the ljubavi toj dajes” da pricas inquisitive mind still dok ne svane zora..ti si moja ljubavnica mora... continues in thousands of people. jer svaki tvoj nezni dodir” pokrece okeane...

It is necessary to educate our brothers leteti recima tvojih dodira... znam da umes... with a didactics and a dialectic, so that they znam da razumes... Ti me vidis svojim ocima know their interior and thus recover the koje i tamu boje... volim sve najdraze moje ti si paradise lost, or their consciousness (awaken from deep sleep) awakening all their powers moj otkucaj srca... Svaki dan neki osecaju that it contains, since it contains the wisdom of izgore u ocima... svaka samoca najgora je nocima..preko dana donosim ti pune ruke creation . neznosti... potrosimo svaki sekund jer vreme In POPOL VUH, the sacred book of the moze prekinuti igru bez da nas upozori...

Mayans, he narrates that the gods created men of wood, a clear allusion to us, but that they Svaku moc te sanjam i tu si mi sjajna... cuvam have not yet become complete human beings te u snu kao da si tajna... ono sto se najduze or that consciousness is not crystallized within ceka..najace se grli... kad mi nedostajes ja svoje the human being. Everywhere they shout the snove jako zagrlim i isplacem sve sto ti zelim reci a ne mogu... Sakrijem zelje iza zalazeceg wisdom of the Soul. sunca. Sa novim jutrom budit ce se zelje

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zajedno sa mnom... .ti to umes..ti me najbolje They have smooth evil tricky words razumes... capable of turning drops of water to the ocean: ... nekako uvek fali... all lies will be exposed and everyone engulfed jos jedan... jos jedan zagrljaj...

shall be set free to see the glorious light.

Why must we engage in evil conspiracy

jos jedan poljubac... .

sending awful messages into the data-mind of

jos jedan trenutak...

fresh young generation builders?

jos jedan sat...

Cultivate goodness, let it spread around

jos jedan san..

the desert so others can rise and proclaim

Sameer Goel

good things about you.

Why such a stone heart even impulsive

Nigeria

The Sophisticating Decision

person can understand this message.

Listen,

you

that

sophisticated people with lies: remember the tree never changes direction

Clamouring around

after falling only in the air

the street of your mind

it has the opportunity to

turns you into a hothead

swing like a pendulum

fool.

bulb.

The desert won't

Few times from now

receive rain because it

those who care about you

Giveth not rain to the sky,

will begin to careless

so is every man who

about you, because you have not taken

never respects others instruction will cease to diligence on others' opinions. be heroes of all. None will throw honour of In all, excellence is the position of the gold around his name as an outstanding leader mindset, a great leader sets the word ablaze of all.

demanding people coming up to fight and

Few will recognize the truth but self catch up. Great name is not built one day but is Greed residing beneath will hide some into a recorded how many people can stand shoulder to shoulder and say thank you for

They pour lies into the basket of our supporting, innovating, inspiring, encouraging emotion with enticing sweet words but they them to reach their ultimate happiness. only want us to see what they want us to see

51

cage of unending satisfaction of penury.

by depriving people from seeing the future opportunities which are before us which give no help to the system. year I, no. 9, 2021, March

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confabulation 52-58

Meethesh Nirmohi India

Bio Meethesh Nirmohi (30/09/1951) is a Eminent poet, short story writer, Critic,editor and translator.

He is M.A.in Rajasthani from J.N.V.U.Jodhpur - 1st div.1st position 78%marks with two Gold Medal.He is also M.A.in philosophy from Univ.of Jodhpur - 1st Div.2nd position with 68.44% marks fom Jodhpur university, Jodhpur, Rajasthan INDIA.

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He has been writing in both Rajasthani and Hindi form more than four decades. He has participated in National and Inter National Taskand – 24 to 30 Jun, 2012 and Mascow -01 to 08 Jun 2018 (Russia) poetic and short story seminars and symposiums.

With International JLF (Jaipur Literature Festival.) and PLF, Jaipur.

He has two poetry collection in Rajasthani and Two in in Hindi and one short story collection in Rajasthani on his credits,former Editor of the Rajasthani quarterly literaryjournal, AAGOONCH. His short story collection of Rajasthani 'AMAWAS AKAM AR CHAND '(2002) was awarded the prestigious Murlidhar Vyas 'Rajasthani'Katha Sahitya Purskar, 2005 by Rajasthani Bhasha, Sahitya evan Sanskriti Akadami.His Rajasthani short story BANDHAN got Multi lingual (16 Indian languages with English) Short story competetions prize'1987 from VIPULA Telugu monthly. A publication of EENADU group, Hyderabad-India.

National Poetry Award From Shiv Veena Sansthan, Kota.His first Hindi poems collection 'CHEHRON KEE TAKHTIYON PAR' was published in 1986 and Awarded the prestigious Mahakavi Nirala Purskar, 1988 by Gyan Bharti.His Poem "O mrityu!" was awarded the prestigious Rajasthan Patrika Srijanatmak purskar '2009 (National leval) from Dainik Rajasthan Patrika, Jaipur. He awarded Salek Chand Jain International Poetry and Short Story Award by Sirjan Gatha. Com in (01 to 08 JUN 2018: Pahandarawan Antarrashatreeya Hindi Sammelan, MASCO-RUSSIA).

His poems and short stories have been included in Anthology of Modern Indian poetry (1950-2010) in Rajasthani,published from Sahitya Akademi, New Delhi. And SHAKH BHARE SHABAD (Post Independence Rajasthani Poetry) and TEEN BEESI PAR (Post Independence Rajasthani short story.These books are published from National Book Trust of India,New Delhi. He is co-author of 42 prestigious collections of poetry and short stories.

A large number of his poems and short stories have been translated in English and other several Indian languages.

And such Poems and Short Stories were included in Curriculam of Board of Sec. Education Rajasthan, Ajmer (11th and 12 th classes Rajasthani and Hindi) .And A Rajasthani Poetry book "AAPAI RAI OLAI - DOLAI " were also included in Curriculam of Mohan lal Sukhadiya University,Udaipur and Ajamer University. He is regular takar -as poet and short story writer of A.I.R.and Doordarashan since 36 years.

He is retired as a Administrative officer,from Govt. of Rajasthan, Deptt. of Sec. education.

His collection of Hindi poems 'CHIDIYA BHAR SHABD'(2006) had been awarded the prestigious Sudheendra Purskar,2008 by Rajasthan Sahitya Akadami and Kanta Varama ISSN 2458-0198 - ISSN-L 2458-0198

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Romania

Author's portrait Santosh Kumar Bhutan The chance and joy to meet a worldrenowned man, chosen as Santosh Kumar Bhutan with exemplary achievements in professional, social terms, an inspired poet, a great humanist who resembles a rainbow emerged after the storms of time that still gives us hope in people… His professional, literary, humanistic career is successful. A sensitive soul, in search of beauty and people of character, always in love with the written word, which ennobles characters, the only solid truth of the world. A warm soul, which receives you with grace and balance in its universe, without pretending to return its gesture. And you cannot enter defiled, because it exudes purity, honesty, sincerity… A gentle soul, who lives intensely every second, every event, burning with his whole being and urging those around him to do the same… A special soul, full of longings and turmoil that he so sublimely put into the word for us, for those who will come, for those who know and feel the vibration of the soul in the written word… In the great soul as life of Santosh it beats like the waves in the rock, and most of them understand only the falling sand. It is a joy for the eyes of my soul to admire the sculpture of the letters and humanity of the wave on the rock and a divine consolation for the soles of the soul to tread year I, no. 9, 2021, March

the precious sand of his works… Remarkable personality, generous in feelings and actions, harsh with himself and tolerant of others, an oasis of goodness, sincere love, true friendship. He viewed the difficulties as temporary obstacles, and always kept hope for a better tomorrow. His modesty and dignity are very remarkable. Subtle intellectual, highly educated, with great vocation and cultural generosity, with a love of books, of the printed word. A traveler through life a unique man, with a sensitive soul. In his works he communicates the states of mind felt and lived. In his poems there is a turmoil of the soul in a harsh reality. It expresses the truth, the state of the human spirit, reflects the feelings, sheds light for the love of beauty. Everything he does he does with diligence, dedication, serenity and joy. It highlights the sincerity, seriousness and consistency with which human duties are performed.

Biography About the Author Santosh Kumar Biswa is a Bhutanese Author and Poet and is currently working as a Teacher at Damphu Central School, Bhutan. He is an accomplished source of several educational books and poetry anthology and an Inspirational World Peace Agent, in which he promotes peace in his place and around the world through literature.

He trades with multiple stems that are related to current issues based on his observations and experiences that needs urgent attention and through his writing, he

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Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021

partakes in his global concerns and tries to • Outstanding Achievement Award for point out issues about life and gives examples humanity for more encompassing understanding to • Chairman of Bhutan, World uplift peace in the world. He commits his life International Economic Group. promoting peace and humility among DOCTORATE HONORIS CAUSA humanity for better life in the society. He had • Doctor Honoris Causa, Honorary also studied Global Citizenship education from Doctor on Literature, The Institute of the UNICEF. European Roma Studies and Research into He is an award winning writer who Crime Against Humanity and International achieved various laurels from the circle of Law, Belgrade, The Republic of Serbia. writing from across the world like; World Icon • Doctor Honoris Causa, Doctor of Peace of Literature Award, New World History and Humanity, Dynamic Peace Rescue Mission Maker of English Poetry Award, Gold Level International, Nigeria Award on Poetic Prowess and profundity, • Doctor Honoris Poetic Prowess Award, Causa, Honorary Poetic Parley Gold Quill Doctorate on Peace, Award twice, World Security, Peace Poetic Star Award, Global combating terrorism and Literary Society Bronze poverty, Sustainable Star Award, Writer of the development and Week Award, Eternal Humanity, Chaudhary Art Flame's Commendations, Trust, India Writer Guild of America • Doctor Honoris Honor, Platinum Category Causa, Honorary Certificate of Honor from Doctorate on Motivational Strips, Edgar Humanitarian service, Allan Poet American Poet Peaceful coexistence and the Concept of peace award and many more. among all, Council of Physical and Spiritual SANTOSH KUMAR BISWA, Bhutan Cure and The Royal Sovereign Empire of • Founder of World Literary Forum for Indira Royal Family, Africa.

Peace and Human Rights - WLFPH, BHUTAN. • Doctor Honoris Causa, Doctor of • Peace Cadet Coordinator, Directorate Excellence, Dynamic Peace Rescue Mission of Dynamic Peace Rescue Mission International, Nigeria & International International, Nigeria Operation for Peace and Security to Activate • Director of Editing Department at Humanitarian Law for Peace, India.

Inked with Magic, Literary Forum, Africa.

• Honorary Grand Master, Great • President of Bhutan at The World Honorary Master, Worldwide Writers People’s Forum. TWPF @ BTYA, Bangladesh.

Association Artist of thw ORBE (ADADO), • The Member of the International Peru.

Frontiers for Peace and Humanitarian Other QUALIFICATIONS Organization (IFPHO) representing Bhutan.

• Post-Graduation in English Literature,

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Royal University of Bhutan

International Foundation, India.

• Bachelor of Education, National • Mahatma Gandhi Global Excellence Institute of Education, Bhutan Award 2020, Mahatma Gandhi Global Peace • GCED101- AN INTRODUCTION TO Forum, India.

• Outstanding Achievement Award for • CURRICULUM DEVELOPMENT FOR Humanity, People Awareness Council, India GCED EDUCATORS, UNESCO • Special Achievement Award for • Gross National Happiness (GNH) Leadership, Commitment and dedication in the pursuit of Peace, harmony, Unity and Training Workshop, Thimphu, Bhutan Solidarity, Institute of Leadership and Peace, CERTIFIED PEACE Philippines.

• World Peace Ambassador, Humanity • Certificate of Devotion for Devotion Protection Unit, Nigeria and Care for Peace and Humanity, The • World Peace Ambassador, The soulmate Indonesia Peace soulmate Indonesia Peace and Humanity and Humanity Organization, Indonesia.

Organization, Indonesia.

• International • Ambassador of Medal for Best Character Literary and Humanity, in a year 2019, Council of Physical and Commission National Spiritual Cure Kano State, Change De Mission Nigeria Culturelle et Sports, • Peace Ambassador Morocco (Cadet) Representing • World Icon of Bhutan, Dynamic Peace Literature, National Rescue Mission Academy of Art and International, Nigeria Culture, India • Ambassador of Art and Literature, The • Certificate of Honor as Mundail Award International Egyptian Academy for for Literary Excellence 2019-2020, Urubamba, Development, Art and Peace Publishinh, Cusco-Peru.

Nigeria.

• Certificate of Creativity People, IOPSH • Certificate of Honor for Ambassador of to Activate International Humanitarian Law Peace amd Humanity, World Peace amd for Peace, Morocco.

Humanity Mission, Bangladesh.

• Certificate of Excellence, Khidmat AWARD Foundation, India.

• Peace Medal, National Change Mission Commission for Culture and Sports, Morocco.

The volume of poems poems with a • Global Icon of World Peace and Human modern lyric, with a structure and a form, Amity, Galaxy International Jury Award, India. creates a special state of mind, with a deep • Golden Icon of World Peace and Human meaning, awakening strong feelings in us, as Amity, Galaxy Jury Award, Galaxy people. The poet Santosh has a rich and loving year I, no. 9, 2021, March

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soul. Reading the poet's lyrics, they managed to introduce me to a vibration of metaphors and epithets that try to transpose the message of words. I travel through the poet's states and emotions through the passage of the soul through faith and love. He manages to capture in a nuanced way, the unseen universe of moods.

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A praise brought to humanity, in its incessant outpouring. The lyrical self, presented, expressing deep feelings: love, admiration, emotion, humanity. Butterfly Rhythm anthologies and White Dove, two world-renowned anthologies. They are unique in the reflection of human thoughts, in the creation of ideas, feelings, deeds, love, nature, education, ideologies. He paints with the brush of the soul over the horizons, horizons with a braid of whispers, thoughts and peace. Each poem urges a reverie, a deep introspection, it is like a dive, a fantastic exploration.

words of the senses, intertwined with the sounds of harp, violin and piano, where soft and gentle touches, while on the screen of the inner soul unfold fantastic images, after the heartbeat.

Peace of love, longing, wind, thoughts elegantly perform their scores in wonderful settings, bathed in the light of heaven by the infinite humanity of the author. Memories are a strong feeling, symbolized by the two stars, day and night. I invite the reader on a seductive journey into the world of soul poetry where love is personified according to the soul of each person. However, the feeling of love has a definition that could include all the characteristics of the human soul.

Love is the uplifting feeling that takes place in the heart of every human being.

Everything is simple and complex, at the same time, natural and settled, it seems to flow naturally, but the sensitive eye and the fine The poet oscillates between states of intuition of the poet capture the essentials as longing, dreaming, bliss and ecstasy, in front of in a stop-frame that captures a mood, a unique the wonders of the world, which are gradually moment. revealed to him. Soul in transformation, here I believe that a poet's true book is one, is the one troubled by the author, the passage provided it is unique, because the definition of of time over dreams, moments, flight, love, a poet who publishes a good book lies in two universe. It is present in every poem, words: talent and energy. Poetry is perceived accompanies the lyrics with its warm chords exactly as it is shown, with all the and fills the pantry of the author's delicate transparency of a soul. He is aware of and heart. He is a man of great value who loves and understands the deep, sacred relationship that helps his fellow men. writers develop with poetry, but he does not Earthly life is his greatest good and is the deny his right to hope that beauty must be foundation of all the other goods that one can highlighted. claim on earth. The volume of poems is outlined in precious images, in an explosion of

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collaboratively or even in single.

Babangida B. Shira Nigeria

We, human beings as the time-travellers,

A critical analysis of Dr A.M ought to be chameleons to the up-fronting Bedu's Poem: Talking to who situation that we dwell in. Starting from the care (s) to listen unweaned creations to weaned ones. Time is Dr Ahmed Mohammed Bedu was one of acclaimed

poet,

researcher,

teacher,

motivator, Ph.D holder and lecturer etc

sometimes boring and trigger to mind's suffering and tricking as it keeps paradigms.

Poet emphasizes: "No doubt you’re ups

lectures at the University of Maiduguri. He was

"One day you're downs"

an active educationalist who was engaging in several

With these, also, we

Academic

Performance. He studied

can

Western Languages and

nobody knows tomorrow,

Literature

but

Suleyman

at

Isparta

reassured God.

Then

that God

encloses His schedules

Demirel

into form of the dignity of

Universitesi.

time. Because life is time,

A poem entitled as

time is life : misusing it

"Talking to Who care(s)

causes downfalls in a

to Listen " by Dr A.M Bedu

person's life.

is scrupulously portrays

In a second stanza,

the truth overture of

humans' lives. It preaches the gospel of Dr A.M Bedu, the poet, emphasises his ideas in humanity, life- resilient and and cunning plans an economy of language: "As you’ve traveled far..."

for embarking on humanistic journey.

Though the lines embody the pattern of

In deepest poetic pangs, Bedu's work

a grammatic elements, praisefully, it lavish the lucid

"Child of the system" "You have it all even without team" As introductory verse, mesmerise the readers' keenness of dragging the doom

message

a

reader(s)

wants

to

comprehend. And also he adds: "You’ll reach your bar..."

The

poet, here,

gives

a

shortcut

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opens with:

minded meaning out of their world-- to real expression in which all the living creations bright structure of human advent -- in which besides human beings will have faced it, willy any

one's

life's

year I, no. 9, 2021, March

struggling

begins, nilly. "You’ll.... bar." In this poetic stance,again, ISSN 2458-0198 – ISSN-L 2458-0198

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021

we can deduce that, no matter how lives of enlightenment of how to demystify his/her life persons or animals prolong; there most be a before the uncorrected circumstances occur. demarcation of their prolongations, one day.

Finally, in the fourth stanza, poet opens

Professionally, the poet transitions in his his

lighted-heart,

pleading

mouth

and

narration. He gives subtle, warm and zenith soothing tongue to drop peoples' attention foreshadowing-- the same time flashbacking about how trick-player the world is. And the omnipresent conflict or blurs of life of the simultaneously, serves as a councillor to his bygones peoples-- by rehearsing the readers, readers as well by tweets the following lines: how skillful they're (bygone-people) in terms

"Work on the true path

of ignoring and arrogating the use of glorious

That will lead to truth

opportunity(es) that God spares for them.

Furthermore, the poet gives birth to an idea which

expresses

Don't follow your heart" In these palpable

that

pentameters,

"...who he covers his ears

the

respective poet sounds

for preachers' words,the

the words of advice to his

life's words will amplify

readers,

over his ears despite of its

and

all.

By

revivifying the readers'

pros and cons".

sense of proportion that,

"It's pretty not to be

spending the time on

arrogant"

something

"Many before you

worthwhile:

makes person to be in

were ignorant"

luxurious being forever.

As the poet reinforce above, best of my And it is the podium of a person to be in line of perception here, he( the poet) quests the dignitary that will uplifts the person's life as mankind that how useful they take their time? the new start.

And also how cunning they're in terms of "Life is a transition" deviating from the experienced problem(s)?

Then, how they will be free from it? At this juncture, the poet closes his third stanza, with

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powerful and cautious line:

The poet ends his dazzling and sparkling gabby

expression

in

mono-meter.

And

extensively, he wants to beat a sound-drum

that, the life is a ladder on which each steps "Until when they landed on keg powder" must be cleared before promoted to the next.

So, by reading the above verse, will helps Better to be wise enough when driving the

the reader to navigate the mystifications of ages into several facets of life as the poet, others' lives and to give a readers glue poetically advised.

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With my breath Auwal Ahmed Ibrahim I'd nurture every detail With gentleness

Nigeria

Love is very Sweet I'd taste each day's lesson With a tactful tongue

Love your love for better, It lights the heart like lighter, Love can make sane to mad, It enriches our laughter, Is a beautiful thing for all, Cherish it and as you fall, It is a good thing you can't afford, For money can't buy a heart, True love don't deals with money, It is just for you and me, I will continue to ride you, In my heart to comfort you, Sugar Zedna Manila

I'd like to purchase our future I'd pay everyday with My collection of Kind words

I'd sing every song With a zesty larynx I'd get excited Awaiting each sunrise With your poetry I'd get ecstatic Seeing the sunset As your heart Resides here With mine.

Muhammad Ishaq Abbasi Pakistan

See spring see The spring is here, look around, Flowers are blooming on the ground.

Beauty is dancing everywhere, Birds are flying here and there.

I Would The severe coldness has gone away, The soft breeze comes again today.

Children run out with cries of delight, The beauty of Nature is a fair sight.

As it is a pleasant weather, Children want to play together

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Love is sweeter than melon, It fulls the heart to the brim,

I'd cherish every moment year I, no. 9, 2021, March

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The magazine appears in Romania editorial office Founding President Lenuș Lungu, Santosh Kumar Biswa Director: Lenuș Lungu, Santosh Kumar Biswa, Ioan Muntean 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. 9, March, 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.

Revista de scrieri şi opinii literare Taifas Literar poate fi citită online pe site-urile Cronopedia (lenusa.ning.com) or: Taifas Literay Magazine Email: worldliterarymagazine@gmail.com

Orders for the purchase of the magazine can be made on the Cronopedia website and on the email address above.

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Authors in summary: ADEPOJU ADEOLA 36, ALBY RAYMOND PARACKAL 15, AMB. MAID CORBIC 37, ANNETTE (WENGERT) TARPLEY 38, APU MONDAL 33, AUWAL AHMED IBRAHIM 27, 59, BABANGIDA B. SHIRA 57, BHAGIRATH CHOUDHARY 10, BIRENDU KUMAR SINHA 33, BOGDANA GĂGEANU 27, CHANDAN BHATTACHARYA 26, CLIVE NORMAN 14, DR. PRASANA KUMAR DALAI 38, EAGLE GOLD 18, FRANCESCA GHIRIBELLI 12, GANIMETE JAKUPI DEMIRI 34, GERLINDE STAFFLER 24, 26, GUNA MORAN 16, IBRAHIM HONJO 23, ISILDA NUNES 22, JEANNIE ASHTON 23, JOANNA SVENSSON 19, KAMAL DHUNGANA 26, KAMRUL ISLAM 22, LENUȘ LUNGU 53, LOMAS KUMAR BHATT. 24, LYN RAMOS V ALFONSO 2, MARIANA KISS 33, MARIVIC NEMI 34, MARUF SHAIKH 8, MEETHESH NIRMOHI 52, MERCHANTS OF LIES 25, MIROSŁAW GRUDZIEŃ 43, MLADEN M. TOKIĆ 30, MUHAMMAD ABDUL WAHID 31, MUHAMMAD ISHAQ ABBASI 2, 37, 59, MYRIAM GHEZAÏL BEN BRAHIM 21, NWANKWO VICTOR AVIC 25, ODUJEBE OLUWOLE 18, PAUL ROTARU 3, PETRICĂ TATU 32, PUNYA DEVI 10, 35, RAMESH CHANDRA PRADHANI 7, 14, 30, RAÚL BOLAÑOS ROMERO 47, REFIK MARTINOVIC 25, ŠAHDO BOŠNJAK 39, SAMEER GOEL 12, 51, SAMEER GOEL 51, SANTOSH KUMAR BISWA 18, 28, SELMA KOPIC 20, SHIKDAR MOHAMMED KIBRIAH 15, ŠOLKOTOVIĆ SNEŽANA, 35, STEFANO CAPASSO 15, SUGAR ZEDNA 59, TEMITOPE MICHAEL OMOTOSO 21, VOULA MEMOU 32, ZORAN RADOSAVLJEVIĆ 50

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