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 Muhammad Ishaq Abbasi Philippines Pakistán War And Peace Woeful Dead Every individual has freedom. On return from a long journey on foot, Every nation has sovereignty. I was just on my way. When freedom is invaded, It was midnight. When the laws of sovereignty are violated, I sat by a grave in the cemetery. Conflicts arise and when unsettled And because of fatigue I fell asleep and Wars can’t be avoided. dreamed. Wars cause so much devastations, That the graves were torn open. damages to lives and resources, And the deads came out of the graves, Traumas and fears to both warring nations Talking to each other with joy. and people. One of them was sitting woeful. And the lives of the future generation After a while the angels came down from become uncertain. heaven, Why don’t we chose to settle conflicts They presented gifts to each of the dead. amicably? The deads happily went back to the graves. Why don’t we try to respect everyone’s No presents were given to the woeful dead. freedom and sovereignty? When he started going back to the grave For the world to live in harmony and peace, empty handed. For a better humanity, So I asked him. For the future of our children, Why no gift was offered to you? Let’s all give peace and harmony a chance. So he began to say that dear relatives in the world, 2 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. ISSN 2458-0198 - ISSN-L 2458-0198 TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9,March, 2021 editorial 3-7 permită un argument! Javert, captiv al disciplinei, al ideii de puritate, își desființează Paul Rotaru logica autoritară amintindu-și că el este progenitura unei târfe încarcerate. Legea, Efectele contrastului poetic reprezentată de Inspectorul Javert, o lege strictă, rigidă, inumană și, totuși, concepută de Motto: Când în paradis ninge, în iad arde oameni, se azvârle în Sena, pentru curățire, tot soare. Aurora Ispas așa cum toate valorile omenirii se lasă spălate de trecerea eternă a fluviului vital. Victor Hugo Efectele vieții asupra actului creator sunt îndrăznește să opună curajul prezentului de a se sinucide în favoarea unui necunoscut viitor de-a dreptul cutremurătoare de cele mai care trebuie să se descurce de la sine. Pot oamenii, în libertatea lor supremă, să aibă multe ori, însă ele permit conceptualizarea încredere în viitorul pe care nu și-l pricep? într-o sferă superioară a reperelor vitale în Dacă da, instinctul ne salvează pe toți. Dacă nu, arealul contextului artistic. Oamenii sunt tot instinctul ne va extermina. creatori fără a fi neapărat artiști; ei sunt E comod să credem creatori după cum îi că, deasupra faptelor noastre, există o orientează vectorii inteligență care ne dictează dacă faptele ne ființării pe pământ și, sunt bune sau rele. Este mult mai dificil să ieșim dacă nu ar îndrăzni în din plasma realității, a rutinei, a placentei libera lor imaginație, s-ar originare, astfel încât să rupem lanțurile care ne leagă de același prezent gonflabil și preschimba în prizonierii conjunctural. De aici, încep granițele artistice. Mai departe, intervin riscurile! Se prea poate propriilor rutine. ca, în vremuri incomensurabile, haosul să fi avut nevoie de stăpânire. Și de aceea trebuia În romanul social ucis Tiamat, pentru ca ulterior să ne ivim și noi, oamenii, în orizontul acestui univers. clasic s-au impus Preocuparea mea personală față de caractere și tipologii poezie implică inevitabil factorul uman, spre care mă îndrept atât cu un deget acuzator, cât unice, dar ridicate la și cu un suflet crispat, timid, uneori de o rezervă excesivă. Cu toate astea, poezia a standarde peste răbufnit din mine ca o neliniște neînțeleasă, greu acceptabilă, ca un dragon dornic de așteptarea pârjol, dar care susține pe aripi oamenii cei contemporaneității; adică sunt aduse la nivel ISSN 2458-0198 – ISSN-L 2458-0198 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 le- ar putea eterniza altfel. Cu toate astea, când spiritul creator își 3 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

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021 mai dragi. Știu că timpurile de acum nu sunt oameni, printre călăi și semidocți, printre mai tragice decât oricare epocă din existența analfabeți cu ștaif și curve fără nume! Poezia s- omenirii; percepția personală m-ar fi dus a născut în bordel, a fost înfășată cu scutecele demult la balamuc dacă nu mi-aș fi dezvoltat religiei și a căutat laptele din sânul lui Satan. viziunea artistică în virtutea căreia să dau Poeziei i-a trebuit o zodie a omenirii pentru a vitalitate propriilor speranțe. Aș comite o se ghida în calea revenirii spre iad. Sau spre aroganță dacă aș da drept exemplu viața mea rai!? în susținerea temei acestui editorial. Deși sunt convins că ceea ce scriu stârnește curiozități Quasimodo = „aproape ceva“, îl numea dincolo de limitele textelor publicate, am marea nădejde că forma pe care o dau vieții Victor Hugo pe dramaticul personaj la propria prin creațiile mele literare va mobiliza, alături de toți artiștii acestei lumi, viața planetei către tinerețe literară. Dacă am fi nostalgici, am repere ce ne înalță pe toți oamenii... din trecut și din totdeauna. crede că franțuzul a dus-o bine în exilul din Nimeni și niciodată, Elveția! Dacă am fi răutăcioși, am spune că pe acest ținut căruia îi spunem Cămin, nu a fost binețea se datora unor simpatii politice fără de artist pentru a măguli puterea, pentru a da care exilul nu i-ar fi fost favorabil în contextul speranțe deșarte unei societăți care gusta romanului care a întors elixirul dezamăgirii. Arta, de la prima ei manifestare două continente pe dos. Și prin plâns, s-a maturizat odată cu omenirea pentru gata cu „dacă“! Victor a ne da și zâmbete. Arta avea nevoie de oameni pentru a-și regăsi Hugo a schimbat lumea dumnezeul, tot astfel cum Dumnezeu trebuia să fie artist pentru a-l crea pe om. În spectrul nu doar pentru că a scris artei, trebuie să fim naivi a ne imagina o lume în care Satan tace și tace... cam tot atât cât tace literatură, că a fost un Dumnezeu. Poate chiar mai mult, dacă ascultăm cu sufletele acolo unde avem nevoie. republican democrat; el a Poezia are carențe fără de care nu ar fi scris cea mai dificilă fost perfectibilă. Cea mai mare carență a ei este substanța, acel suflu personal ce îndepărtează dramă, „Cromwell“, eul cititor de realul concret prin făgașele eului liric. Ne cerem iertare, ca poeți, că dăm cu tocmai pentru că, în supra de măsură din spiritele noastre, dar nici noi nu am supraviețui altfel! Nu viața ne-a tinerețea lui fizică, avea făcut poeți, nici educația și nici cultura, acest flagel al opțiunilor; trecerea prin lume, printre viziunea principiului democratic dus la scară supremă: egali toți înaintea lui Dumnezeu, fie că El ne aude ori nu! Doresc să nu fie uitat acest principiu și fac asta revenind la valori fără de care scrierea acestor rânduri ar fi fost goale de la capăt. Stima supremă ce o nutresc artiștilor sub ale căror auspicii mi-am dezvoltat sistema de valori se regăsește în următoarele versuri. 4 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... ISSN 2458-0198 - ISSN-L 2458-0198 TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Mi-e greu să port această agonie Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9,March, 2021 5 În sufletu-mi îmbătrânit de patimi. Oh, neființă rece și târzie, Mă vor închide-n temnița uitării De ce nu vrei o dată să mai clatini? Numindu-se divini în locul meu, Iar din cenușa urii și puterii Din tine am făcut și nori... și stele... Au să mai inventeze-un dumnezeu... Și munții stăpâniți de semizei... Ai fost cu toate-n virtuțile mele Dar nu de ei durerea mă apasă, Și-ți cer acum cu toate să mă iei... Ci pentru voi, iubiții mei copii – În veșnicia mea întunecoasă, Ca fiii mei, îmi voi purta povara De m-ați uita, eu totuși aș muri... Și lovituri de pietre voi primi, Iar soarele înnobilându-și fiara V-am închinat izvoare, mări și valuri În strigăte de hulă voi privi. Și universul tot să-l stăpâniți; Voi ați crezut în alte idealuri – Coroana cea de spini, însângerată, M-ați părăsit ca să vi le-mpliniți... Vă va rămâne singură-amintire. Peste milenii-o veți păstra curată, De câte ori v-ați depărtat de casă Blazon pentru întreaga omenire... Pe căi necunoscute, nedescrise, Eu am rămas cu ochii la fereastră – În sânge vă veți cântări iubirea, V-am așteptat cu brațele deschise! Vărsându-l fără milă în noroi, Spunând că de la mine-aveți puterea, M-ați judecat și vă-nțeleg durerea, Că-mi semănați și că trăiesc în voi... De ce nu v-am făcut nemuritori, De ce nu v-am împrumutat puterea Azi m-au chemat instanțele divine, De-a fi stăpâni pe soare și pe nori. Cerându-mi să le dau o socoteală: De ce-am creat frumoasa omenire De-ați fi nemuritori, din ignoranță Știind că într-o zi ea va să piară? Nici viața n-ați mai ști s-o prețuiți, Iar cântecul ce l-am numit SPERANȚĂ Nu îmi găsesc cuvinte să dau seamă Ar fi neînsemnat să-l mai trăiți. De ce-ați primit suflarea de-a trăi – E ca și cum ați judeca o mamă În nemurire nu este puterea Că a iubit și a născut copii! Nici fericirea-n cel nemuritor; Acolo unde-i zâmbetul, durerea, De-aceea în instanțele divine E totul mai frumos... că-i trecător! Tăcerea este cel mai bun răspuns – Se vor înstrăina cu toți de mine Voi sunteți mai puternici decât mine Și moartea pentru ei n-ar fi de-ajuns... 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 ISSN 2458-0198 – ISSN-L 2458-0198

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021 De n-aș fi fost în lumea mea pustie, Oricât de multe stele, tot puține Mi-ar fi plăcut să fiu acolo, jos, Pe noua boltă vi se vor părea, Căci viața voastră e o simfonie Iar lumea voastră, cu sau fără mine, Pe care chiar și eu aș fi gelos. Ar fi la fel de bună și de rea... Dar vă privesc cu dragoste adâncă Nenumărate flăcări și blesteme Din golul resemnărilor de-apoi, Veți azvârli spre zările albastre, Ca Prometeu înlănțuit pe stâncă, Căci groaza pustiirilor eterne Sacrificat și el tot pentru voi! E plăsmuirea neștiinței voastre. Nu-mi spuneți c-am făcut vreo nedreptate, În scopul păcii veți purta războaie, Iubind mai mult pe unii ca pe alții – Veți invoca scripturi, savanți, profeți; Eu n-am fost dictator peste palate Din sângele vărsat între noroaie Și nici nu am încununat ovații. Veți vrea să inventați copii perfecți. Nu pot să-mi cântăresc nicicând iubirea Riscați să vă distrugeți propria vatră Prin închinările ce vi le-ascult – În al cunoașterilor lung demers, De-ar fi definitivă despărțirea, Lăsându-vă purtați pe-o altă piatră, Eu v-aș iubi pe toți la fel de mult! Spre alte limite din univers. Nu v-am cerut supunere și slavă Poate că veți privi din lumi străine Și nici altare pentru sacrificii, Trecutul vostru sumbru, zbuciumat Căci sufletul e-o pasăre firavă Și, amintindu-vă cumva de mine, Ce nu-și va face cuib între religii. Veți crede că doar eu sunt vinovat. Nu v-am cerut nici preoți, nici biserici Puteți să-mi spuneți Soarele și Luna, Și nici statui de aur sau de lemn; Amun, Allah, Iehova, Zavaot, Nu v-am cerut enoriași sau clerici, Iisus, Mohamed, Buddha – toate-s una Ci viața s-o trăiți frumos și demn! Și-n aste nume voi mă faceți tot! Eu nu vreau liturghii și molifteruri, Ori, pentru că voi sunteți plăsmuire Nici prosternare în sudoarea frunții – Din ale universului scântei, Iubiți-vă pe voi până la ceruri, Voi sunteți dumnezei în devenire Iubiți Pământul, câmpii, marea, munții! Și, buni sau răi, sunteți copiii mei! 6 Voi sunteți ca o rază pentru mine, Veți legăna pe-o lucitoare rază Ce liniștea-mi îmbracă în mister – Uitându-mă cu toți până-ntr-o zi. De-ar fi să plec spre alte zări senine, Ori, dacă zeii care vă-nfiază Lăsați-mă să vă mai fac un cer! Vor fi mai buni, mai răi... doar voi veți ști! ISSN 2458-0198 - ISSN-L 2458-0198 TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Veți răsturna guverne colosale, Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9,March, 2021 Vă veți alege proprii dumnezei – Deși veniți din vremuri ancestrale, Ramesh Chandra Pradhani Mă tem că într-o zi veți fi ca ei... India Mă veți găsi răpus în întuneric La rădăcina unui singur pom – Mother's language day Din fructul nepermis și luciferic Eu voi renaște, voi trăi ca OM! A language of heart comes from heart that is mother's tongue Mă veți privi din lumea voastră-naltă No problems to understand one's emotions Ca pe ceva mărunt și curios; never be wrong Eu nu am să vă judec niciodată, Heartfelt and mind-blowing the songs in heart Nici nu voi arde jertfe de prinos! when sung More mellifluous and spontaneous those Nu veți avea asupra mea putere, loveliest songs Cum eu nu am acum asupra voastră Și, tot din fericire și durere, The language that to a Voi tinde către bolta cea albastră! mother it belongs Things are vividly and În patimă îmi voi trăi destinul lucidly identified with Și voi cunoaște ce e rău și bine – sense strong În ziua-n care am să beau veninul, A language of closeness, Voi ști că totul este doar în mine. love and compassion in throng Voi tinde să ating perfecțiunea A fair and frank Și tot ce e divin să înțeleg, expression with no Să aflu că iubirea e minunea complications Ce ține-n viață universu-ntreg! Squeezed the gap of communication between generations 7 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 ISSN 2458-0198 – ISSN-L 2458-0198

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021 poetry 8-46 This left the door of my mind open. So that she can taste my heart, Maruf Shaikh How long can I remember? Bangladesh To return, After she told me like this. Do not know where she got lost? Whenever you open your hair Maybe it's not hard to breathe, If she go alone. However, it becomes difficult. Then maybe that’s the way it can be taken! It might not be difficult for me to turn my eyes If she leave home empty-handed, on you. Then maybe I could accept it anyway! However, it becomes difficult. When you go every afternoon, But not! No! Stand at the corner of the She went to remember me. roof, The scent of her hair Secretly, snatched me inside her, By losing your hair, you She tore my chest and untangle your hair. grabbed my heart. In the tune of her bracelet. See you from behind, Yes, she as left alone at I don't know how to home. increase the ability to be She leaves my inner door happy ... open. So that she can come I'm the man in this scene, back, Who loves your hair. She can tie her love rhyme to me as she wishes When you open it slowly, ..... Blow your loose hair. It touches my lips. When did she kiss me? She kept me in touch with her hair. What is its discount of scene? I don't know, where is that princess? I forget then..., .... Keep you in love. Fickle love .. 8 Mysterious Love Girl How much i want you? This is something I'm not really aware of. When did someone come as a magician? But if someone else shows the effect of Don't know, touching your hand, I can't stop being angry. She stayed in me for a while and relaxed, ISSN 2458-0198 - ISSN-L 2458-0198 TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9,March, 2021 How long will I drive you? But don't walk away like this I do not ask the vibrations of the breaths of a battle of love. \" You can run and slap a lot, But if someone else tries to get your attention, Until this high society stops this rain. When I see this happening. Kiss me again in a very angry look, If you can become inside me a life. \" I have a serious problem on my mind, at that time. This rain of desires has come out... As if someone suddenly stabbed me in the chest. Still you didn’t stop me. But i love you only I am the king of dark minds, even today for your sake If I want to win the joy of the sea, I praise you a lot. The contract of liberties should write a sunset and If i cannot live with you. a bath in the sea. On which name should i You are my killer queen, live? so what? Tell me, oh angel! I still love you my only I felt nothing without you killer on my mind. else... How can I be rude for This rain of desires has 9 you? come out... I'm not aware of it at all, Even then i could not But the tears hurt the local or the end of the leave you. rain, But you haven’t had this different wish. When someone calls you, Once more, once more. How uneasy I can be because of you? Can't you hug my arm. Seeing my heart broken. You come from behind me like an arrow, I want to make a good start on that shore How much will I drown in a river like you? again. I really have no idea, \" But don't walk away like this. Only emptiness teaches me, Don't burn me with a vacuum, never go away. Take me hostage, \" What else is this? year I, no. 9, 2021, March ISSN 2458-0198 – ISSN-L 2458-0198

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021 Punya Devi I have realized the truth that India Everyone has his own treasured island Everyone has his own sky „You are the first sailor „ Which are enlighten with Flowery stars You are the first sailor of my Discovering my dreamful island Unexplored island Building a bridge of love and peace Liting up a lantern of love Connecting one island to another You have enlightened my You taught me to start the voyage Solitary dreamland In the ocean of humanity By spreading the sails of faith goodwill Before you Of the ship of mind Neither sounds of whistle From any ships of invader O the first sailor of my could Unexporable solitary Shake the fastened flag island Of my freedom Be an imperishable lamp Nor any conqurer could of eternal love have made Will you please remain Storm of ebb and tide for ever For spoiling it’s rhythms In the sarinity of my dreamland...? But in that midnight While a song of an Bhagirath unknown bird Choudhary Made me bound to feel me Loneliness deeply India At that moment Spreading the sails of Wisdom transmission Hope of your boat 10 You stood up face to face with me From very beginning Invisible evolutionary urge Opening the treasury of my Made a holy surge Secret emotions For making universe I too welcomed you heartefully Write a divine verse For life and living While you have entered into the Loving and thriving Temple of my heart then Plunging in the blue sea Every one co-operated Of your big eyes All supported all All contributed ISSN 2458-0198 - ISSN-L 2458-0198 TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

What they learned Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9,March, 2021 11 For being And becoming There is nature Making earth That wangle on A cosmic wisdom hearth Melancholy seeking for pickles To pick and sustain Everyone passed on It’s throat is thirsty and dry by season His evolutionary wisdom Is like is fry To the next relay racer It pitch on parched leaves To help Every aspiring self Spear nature To rise Is our orish And apprise The bird pant on By being sane and wise tree to thrall to pick a berry For cosmic wisdom But non is fund enterprise Not a oregano leaves all is The sacred mission dried For wisdom transmission On the weather snow it Goes on genetically feed On By word linguistically As thalassic is dried And culturally Willing to keep breathing Without stop habit And any delay Not to allowing the heart Like a wisdom relay to cease breath By everyone truthfully And so very faithfully It suffers illness Unable to pick Man is here Draw white-ant Like a account keeper To feed And a humble Seer It lacks janitor Let me be accountable Lay a water pot around And be universally responsible Before it cease to breath As a wisdom keeper The feeding pot For loving humanity Is dehydrated by dry season And earth so very deeper It needs a willing hands to Chukwuma Chika Ocm Hydrate the pot Nigeria The throat is dried up There is nature Set the canop to feed the public year I, no. 9, 2021, March ISSN 2458-0198 – ISSN-L 2458-0198

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021 12 Francesca Ghiribelli You bleed the barren earth with your bow, Italia while a child leans in your presence Blue bell and catches you making you spite. But then him You look like a fashion show when it grows up of shy little girls opening an old book clothed in bright dew he will remember on the rising beat than that distant day Of sun. you entered the heart of his childhood and you never abandoned him Your soul with your simple elegance. color of the sky dance among the secret A dried flower whispers between the pages of life: of the wind, a blue bellflower caress inside never been lost. the tears of the meadow embroidering the poem Sameer Goel of two lovers in a kiss India longed for. The ones Silent and shadowy, haughty and thrifty, the ones rocking of petals that left the mouth inside a pistil were words of yellow rice. . the ones Sweet cradle that got stuck of dreaming thoughts, were emotions tiny hat . you appear as an ancient maiden and the ones among the blades of grass i always wish to say of a nostalgic vision. but really can't nothing Delicate perfume, but modesty docile essence . in your slim figurine what to run for superb and china. when this life, ISSN 2458-0198 - ISSN-L 2458-0198 TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

so transient Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9,March, 2021 13 came travelled yes, i repeat advice gone is more of an elixir . if instilled humbly a journey because when it starts . or it ends knocking who knows is meant . to get the door listen to this opened my friends not to break it ears wide open . . vanity too relations isn't loyal to anyone so resembling leaves before it breaks green today may be wilted tomorrow that earthen pot . always thinks that why not whole of water we should learn is its upholding relations . from the roots if any words . bring smile to nurture them on someone's face we often need that's the real beauty to act blind or dumb of this life or may be deaf too remaining all . is an ugly lie feed them with trust . an unshaken faith life doesn't stop shall be lifelong without anyone an evergreen wreath but neither passes . swiftly as it rained without the ones i listened to its song we love summers too . turn ochre live in the moment never reign forever live it so true . nothing to lament advice let smiles accrue.. year I, no. 9, 2021, March ISSN 2458-0198 – ISSN-L 2458-0198

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021 Ramesh Chandra Pradhani Clive Norman India England Morning sky Hill of life Morning wakes up with scenic beauty Life’s like this Painted by the diverse colours of serenity Every single, solitary moment of our lives Each morning comes with fresh start We’ll be unwittingly enduring, an ever- Fresh air, fresh light, fresh mind pretty smart steepening, challenging territorial climb Blowing the horn of consciousness To heavenly blissful tranquilities, within the Each moment of life be not emptiness blue oceanic skies Morning tears up the Whether we’re climbing, a green hill, a heart of darkness bracken wrapped mountain, or a staircase To enlighten the sky of dizziness stretching, way up, up to Kissing the cheeks of the heavens clouds in numbness Sometimes we’ll stumble, Like a coy mistress's sometimes we’ll fall, carefulness sometimes we’ll cry, and As morning born from the sometimes we’ll die heart of mighty sun And many times, we’ll Time being the mother moulds the mind to run roll, roll, roll, all the way Nurturing with the food of change however down forlorn. To pick oneself up, dust Let the morning sky of each life be abundantly oneself off, and start all brightened over again With the limpid light of fairness highly Ascending, learning, adapting, growing, heightened evolving and blossoming, through ever- changing influential circumstances 14 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, re- energising, 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…? ISSN 2458-0198 - ISSN-L 2458-0198 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 goodbye tears Our traditional lively ethics of sweated cultivation For a rightful and absolutely balanced distribution The absent gaze Of crops between lord-house and peasant cottage. fly away, To set a logical rate for your lovely handed crops far beyond the horizon, Or, save your fellow to come back in huge harvest, over icy waters Let's go in the strike make our lords logically reset and shake. As fall of capitalism is the oath of my blood drops. How long days we've to burn our crops my darling! Play and have fun Let's be united to store crops at the rate of labour, the Wind To come back again that golden days really better Let's make the harvest gate with our right marking. to cause havoc, while confused, You, my ladylove! Look at me, the Bengali nature melancholy and How furnishes this country in seasonal diversity! What a beauty in its absolutely balanced equality heartbroken, Let's distribute our households in a couple favour. my mind remains. Then, come my true love to make a delightful life, I too know well I will fulfil the conditions make you a bengali wife. what a life without love Alby Raymond looks like PAarlbaycRkalymond Parackal to an acidic flavor of a fruit not yet mature. India No, no Reign of love I don't want to dry anymore Reign of love, seems mysterious in this lifetime, goodbye tears Reigning always blowing hot and cold as prime; for an ungrateful love Really hate talking it's stand unknown to blame, who no longer lives here. Righteous stance on human rights blightesome! Rarely emotional support of lovely bend regime, But take shelter 15 Right part with in logical conclusions all aflame; my mind, Righteous think about as conclusive in outcome, Rightly seen as human aberrations of lonesome! from the siege of a Void Infinity, Rarefied truth, of earthly living room so sublime, Rectify trances, transcends in life, cumbersome; who hopes Ransack trust of hearty thoughtful venturesome, to sit next. Rational soulful humane treatment take to tame! ISSN 2458-0198 – ISSN-L 2458-0198 year I, no. 9, 2021, March

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021 16 Guna Moran So the distance between us is widening (Original Assamese poem titled “Antardarshan”) India Tr. Nirendra Nath Thakuria Bio-Guna Moran is an Assamese Poet and critic. His poems are published in more than hundred First Lesson international magazines, journals, webzines, blogs, newspapers, anthologies and have been translated into Sitting hunched at the hearth thirty languages around the world. He has three poetry of useful knowledge books to his credit. she toasted her ashen eyes through the gaps of her fingers Insight and very often said You are my unique achievements For some reason of my sacrifice you are upset with me for long ten months and ten days for a couple of days By birth you’ve got a Although I don‟t know beautiful earth the reason besides the vast sky I guess it right So you must be generous You haven‟t spelled it out like the sun I too haven‟t asked you and tolerant like the earth We have taken opposite positions At my birth I cried Maybe I got the pains of Silence is chatting my mother between us Since then I have had Maybe the conversation tears in my eyes is called in happiness and sorrow the battle of nerves of people One can‟t help crying Bloodless whose only companion at birth was tears without arms this is the most difficult battle That honeyed word „Maa‟ was my first honeyed word On earth it is the best person Since then I‟ve blurted out „Maa‟ who wins this battle again and again unawares It is the one who ends this silent battle whenever I sit down or stand up is ever defeated My birth is my mother‟s sacrifice You want to be the winner I must be made for sacrifice Me too don‟t want to be the loser An ingrate I can‟t be ISSN 2458-0198 - ISSN-L 2458-0198 TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9,March, 2021 My happiness lies in my mother‟s happiness a curious sigh My sorrow lies in my mother‟s sorrow Never can I be happy In the teary gaze is it still alive He is the lone custodian of happiness whose main assets are Chitralekha the sun and the earth Having painted on both eyes (Original Assamese poem titled “Adipath”) Tr. suddenly vanished Nirendra Nath Thakuria Chitralekha the enchantress Affection for You She planted in heart It was gleaming the garden of Babylon with the gaze Affection is dumb It is swaying are Affection is deaf in heart heavenly flowers Like a speaker it did not blooming speak about the matter Everyday we hear like a listener it did not melodious calls of painted listen to birds Till the moment of parting You are the gardener 17 it kept waiting in the eyes of the hanging garden I know you won‟t come back again In the thick green of the desolate woods Yet amidst the clouds A tune is ringing faintly will be shining the radiant smile of the sun Gazing at the eyes I want to see (Original Assamese poem titled “Chitralekha”) Note: Chitralekha was the boon companion of Is it still alive Usha, the daughter of the King Baan of the Oh dear Sonitpur kingdom in Assam (India) of the No way, no way Mahabharata era. Chitralekha had magical skills at painting and portraiture in particular. Tr. Nirendra Nath Thakuria Cleaving the heart comes out year I, no. 9, 2021, March ISSN 2458-0198 – ISSN-L 2458-0198

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021 Odujebe Oluwole Santosh Kumar Biswa Birland Bhutan May peace reign My Sweetest Love, let us flee Terror in the nation Blossoms are blooming in the garden of love, In every corner, fear lurk The smiling autumn is maturing soon, Tranquility is uncommon My sweetest love, let us flee before it wilts. May peace rule. The harsh winter is on the ball before eyes, The pitiless chilly wind is ready to parade, Insecurity in the cities And the deceitful snow is about to fall and blur, Fights between brothers To weaken us in love and then to turn us pale. Family bonds broken May peace flow. Before it fades, my sweetest love, let us flee Hatred in hearts grow And glorify our love like Anger in minds blow the Cyclamen forever Conflicts in homes To the place that fortifies May peace dwell. an emblem of love. We shall then wait for the Countries are full of spring to fly high crime With the new hope that Societies are full of crisis beef up our firm love Communities in And make it shine like the confusion brilliant sun of summer May peace reign. With its warmth, for stronger bonds to mend. If love reign in our hearts Eagle Gold Then we will stand together When we love one another México Peace will rule our hearts. Grain-Growers \"Grains of life\" 18 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!. ISSN 2458-0198 - ISSN-L 2458-0198 TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9,March, 2021 Joanna Svensson It is the love that I feel in my heart Sweden Love for all my fellow men Compassion - and empathy In the shadow And so I have decided Already long ago In the shadow of me To peacefully make war In a shadow of my own The only way I know I stand alone And sometimes see To write and write Stars that are beaming With words of love In other people's eyes So that mankind understands Stars that others do see What it's all about at last But not me Because they start to glow That our lives here on In the eyes of others earth Through my poems Are just the blink of an eye I have drowned And suddenly we all do All of my words swim Drowned them with my In the great big lake of inner thoughts memories Thoughts so pure and clean A lake of stars that shine Clean as purest summer More or less for all rain For each and everyone Like gleaming drops of sunshine More if you have love in your heart The sunshine that's lit my path And empathy for your neighbour Followed me through my life But less if you are bitter Because I wanted it that way Torned by evil and filled with revenge I stepped away from the darkness My weapon is love 19 From the evil of this world Love for all mankind Though I know it isn't so Love for all my fellow men That I haven't seen or realized Love for all of nature Love for all in Universe All the world's great misery All of its endless troubles In the shadow of me Of war, starvation and scorn In a shadow of my own Stars are clearly gleaming But in this world I'm armed In the eyes of others With my sole and only weapon Gleaming through my poems! year I, no. 9, 2021, March ISSN 2458-0198 – ISSN-L 2458-0198

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021 20 The time and the roses Because its always here and now You can not run away from it Who has said Not ascape it – nor hide from it That all the roses there are Just say it isn’t there Are all the roses there is It’s begging you – take me with you All of them Take care of me With fragrances yet unknown ‘Cause I’ ll always be there with you All of them With colors never seen And even if you don’t Roses that no one ever seen or smelled Tell no one my age I’ll always be tvere But now I can see them Right there – there where you are! On the other side of the mirror Selma Kopic Where I sometimes go Bosnia and Herzegovina I can not yet describe them all Your bride Because no words are suitable enough I wanted to tell you yes, Because the phases don’t to approach you in a exist white dress Because the fragrances with the footsteps of a are unrevieled frightened deer, to throw a bouquet in the air But I know they will be and call myself yours born for the rest of our lives. On the other side of the mirror. Onlyyourhand couldleadme When time is right happily to heaven. When time has ripened But the white dress for me And I know was never tailored This time will soon be here nor did your ring While the light of life adorn my hand. Still glimmers All of this is really In my childish eyes just in my girlhood dream. The waves of life So that I can describe its beauty took us to different sides. Their astonishingly colors and scents Still, I am happy Things that no one yet have felt or seen 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 Myriam Ghezaïl Ben Brahim Lagos Tunis Unfairness survey Not so easy... Like mice we are in this maze called world, Just as the swell embraces the soft rays Jostling for freedom with we could afford, From dawn, from the sun, after the stormy Through my mind a question goes pop, night, Are these scrambles ever going to stop? Just as words are born from my pencil, Just like a story, told to a wise child. We march as though it's time for war, Like pride of lions we tussle and roar, Just like the quivering With heart of stones our objectives are clear, Success at all cost with no wave in his bed, failure to bear. Or like a beautiful eagle Living like though we've got no choice, soaring through the air, Unheard to world is the essence of our voice, And this myriad of Continuously we fight with no fair time to stop, established beauties Thorny is the path of our bustle to the top. From a generous and prosperous Mother Nature... So hard to shake off yet with bravery we claw, I love you, like the wind panting over the 21 Tigers we've become with the aggression of wheat our paw, Or the dew beading on a bouquet of roses, On we surge without the will to quit, Like a child who sees a whole starry sky, Hard is life with no choice but live with it. Two more lovers who melt into osmosis... Most are fine with my types looking on, It's like a hand grazing your skin, Like hyenas we scavenge for leftovers to choke on, Or a frank look, far beyond the eyelashes. Rumble you must to lose your fumble, I tell you the three words, the ideal ones, Your single with hardwork could get you a double. Simply \"I love you\", it's not that easy... The hunter you are or the hunted to be? 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 ISSN 2458-0198 – ISSN-L 2458-0198

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021 Isilda Nunes The mouth dried up in the refusal of the farewell, Esponsende, Portugal in this postponed death, suspended in the The roses withered solitude of outstanding words! I no longer dream of them, dear! I no longer cry! The roses withered in the dryness of your gaze! 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 the creepers each other like sea and sky. unrest... And I petrify myself on that horizon, Birds with its nest netted where my 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 Thewet kisses of yore,now they are parched fault! to give another shore of mesmerizing days ... 22 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. ISSN 2458-0198 - ISSN-L 2458-0198 TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9,March, 2021 Jeannie Ashton Ibrahim Honjo Bolton, England Vancouver, Canada Words can kill How i built my own inferno When the darkness swallows everything you I know that you will not show up hold dear and I will die alone and your arms can't reach to pull them back to there, where grass does not grow be near and water does not overflow When everything starts fading away before there, where there are no birds 23 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 Then loneliness wraps its season of mulberries self around you holding in my big backyard so tight adorning night particles and the coldness sets into and making a necklace your body too cold to out of them even fight I will die there, where no When the end is your only one dear to me will come friend that you're waiting for there, where you cannot what's the use going on anticipate, seas, or rivers knowing you can't take anymore there, where the sky hangs like a hook My shallow breathing from the poisonous air above furious rocks of sadness congregating with darkness in a spittoon full there, where there is clay dust of madness and groaning fades between rocks Bittersweet words of venom lashing out to the there, where rain lingering on stones is falling heart from the sky like a dagger cutting each other deeply so far apart and washing away its blue Deadly silence after the storm lifts pieces of hate I will die in the silence knowing that every tomorrow will now be too late I've built for myself from pieces of stale loneliness I'm hurting so bad I cannot lie this is how my inferno looks the world is dying and so am I there, so look at my inferno year I, no. 9, 2021, March ISSN 2458-0198 – ISSN-L 2458-0198

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021 Lomas Kumar Bhatt. Across Her in arms, Fly beyond trance, India I'm here to welcome you grand, Sudden I find myself, The Eyes Of Heaven: On the gate of the heaven, Third Eyes smiling, Devastated demarcation in life's horizon, Her lips too, Secrets hold! Shown in nature's perpetual presentation, Gerlinde Staffler Of new beginnings upon old debris, Italia Deaths glorified on it's reincarnations, Living Eart... The breath of Gaia Of course the beauty & glory of the nature, Gaia, a humming bird, Rest itself in the realms of the Blessings, flutters joyfully as does life Pellet-drum pronouncing, on a green breathing planet, Announcing aloud, reserved for a strong pulsating strive, Heaven's garden an organism that intuitively generates, blooming a sot, in steady evolution its own story creates Flora & fauna become One living system, petals of pearls, which does habitually excel where even the smallest and proudest cell Ocean's tears transform composes with swinging participation the picture of a miraculous and moving into nectar, creation With all worldly grif & With this extraordinary innate intelligence a sentient body, sorrow satires, capable to tune into its own flows, requests to embrace a moral conscience Now nectar turns to where each guest life preservation shows 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, 24 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, ISSN 2458-0198 - ISSN-L 2458-0198 TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9,March, 2021 Refik Martinovic Don't follow my steps anymore they are empty as autumn rains Tutin, Serbia which I don't like anymore I'm also proud of the pain you left me Parting big as a mountain and you stayed just as a providence of Please... imagination and dream don't touch me and a short romance with memories and dreams from spring to autumn 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 and my rhymes run away Merchants of when I mention you lies name. Don't come again in the The media now peddles mornings of dreamy city more lies than Satan under an old linden tree As politicians speak from that shrouded us in the under their noses. shadows The supporting pillars of it no longer smells like this manor are volatile. your hands They sordidly sits on and like the music of your sandy soil. lips No welfare for the minors. don't let you birds land on the roof of my As the strong scramble for the spoils. house This head is too heavy for the legs. and writes messages that love is eternal. As the looting spree is unabated The change mantra is a mirage. Please... Green harvest but red pocket. 25 don't go out in to the night alone Just handshake for excellence that we would not meet by chance And big encomium for indolence. because secret chambers of my soul are closed They squander with reckless abandon. for you. Leaving the rest in squalor. only wounds ramained Hospitals are like moribund morgues. which cannot be cured by time Education is like a walking corpse learn to live with them The living are bankrolled by the dead. and be my chapter Even repatriated loots are being relooted. for some distant story. Bandits are in red carpet treat. With kidnappers on the rampage. year I, no. 9, 2021, March ISSN 2458-0198 – ISSN-L 2458-0198

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021 26 Smiling home with handsome ransom. Your wife is in love with her ex-husband. What As terrorists claim more lands do you do then? The chaos queries our pedigree. What would a friend say! With wailing and unquenchable flow of tears. Will commit suicide! I hope to sing again for my land. What will happen to it! When sanity has embraced our quests. Do not commit suicide! When the thirsty minds are satisfied with The body will die. facts. The body will be taken to the grave When fears and uncertainties has taken to Or cremation ground. their heels. Where can the soul go? And have all decimated this ugly hill The soul will only suffer. Then love will breed more truth and less lies. One-third of the trouble Will rotate in the chest, Chandan Bhattacharya. rotating....... And he will say in his heart India Why he has not \"Suicide\" remembered God In his lifetime!! Friend..... You are very established Kamal Dhungana In society today ... So not! India You've house, dollars, cars, wealth, The Red Boys are established, Girls are married to good You always disliked it; the guys, RED color Everyone is very respected in society, I found out later, Your wife loves you so much .... you had always disliked Let take a test and see ! those red roses of valentines. Don't die pretending to die! When you see, I wrote to you with my blood. Then you understand, You disliked those red love letters. who loves you so much? You even disliked the red sindoor, Maybe your children will continue I had brought to adorn you. To share your property, Maybe your wife will calculate, One day ... What you have left for her ! You, caught in an accident; Then, in shame, hatred, humiliation, Neglect, were in need of blood. misunderstanding....... After your relatives' refusal, When you are crying how come you accepted my blood? You will see a thrilling scene...... How did you like your colorful life survived with my blood? After all, that too was RED in color! ISSN 2458-0198 - ISSN-L 2458-0198 TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9,March, 2021 Auwal Ahmed Ibrahim It is not sellable, Nigeria For no one can afford, Bogdana Găgeanu If the Moon Can Talk Romania In this wee hour of time, Cupid strikes 27 We are all alone here, The sun has gone to bed, My fountain was just empty Only deep snoring disturbs, And you refilled it. You poured some love The sky looking gracious, And some affection. Beautiful in black attire, Illuminating looking by, It took some time for me The sky is admirable, To understand your feelings If the moon could talk, And to feel your blessing If the sky can say a word, In my life. If the moon can appreciate love, But now,I am not thirsty The moon will commend any more our love, Because I drink all day Just kisses from your lips. All alone we are here, I know it must be Cupid . With the sun and the sky, Having a beautiful My life is an art moment, The feeling is oozing, My life is an art. I breathe like there's a second My love for you is very big, I paint with my lost colours Bigger than any ocean, I write with my last words Vast than any mountain, I walk,as if I will not return Flowing into me like spring, I sing, as if my heart is crying I dance, as if my music stops With you I am happy, I worship my life. By your side I smile, My soul and my heart In your arms I am satisfy, Are guiding me With you I am complete, And make art a way of living Art has made me free! If the moon can talk, My love for you is forever, year I, no. 9, 2021, March ISSN 2458-0198 – ISSN-L 2458-0198

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021 Shantos Kumar Biswa The old Age 28 ISSN 2458-0198 - ISSN-L 2458-0198 TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9,March, 2021 29 year I, no. 9, 2021, March ISSN 2458-0198 – ISSN-L 2458-0198

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021 Ramesh Chandra Pradhani Mladen M. Tokić India Croatia The brave Dreams of white margarets The brave are the ones who always speak the Always the same steps truth Drops of autumn rain Till the last breath of life Steps generous Who can raise the voice against injustice Holiday wind footsteps Fight for solidarity and divine peace. 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 ways for others to Freckled lonely face progress Keep one's heart open to Always the same steps greet all in process Rains that falling Nowhere or nobody can Rains pouring down suppress as blessed with Over cheeks of tanned god's grace. Down a stone breast Gold ruddy Irish women 30 The brave are the ones Always the same steps who controls five senses The boys concern Can tackle all situations October without sun applying commonsense Starless wars Ready to compromise and adjust not to Unmarked generals disgrace Soldiers in ranks Both friends and foes, smiles and tears they The soldiers march heartily embrace 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 ISSN 2458-0198 - ISSN-L 2458-0198 TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9,March, 2021 On an unfinished mask trampling the peak of Himalayas where wild On a dusty map air is blow. Of a forgotten universe Sometime sink in the sea to find perls no fear or shy. Ride Rockets to fly to find edge of the sky. Always the same steps Always the same dreams Sometime woman are bravely heroin From white margarets To protect the just and right. Wedding snows Someday they are the source of courage. Spring is my darling Laughing in battling fight. The light is now going out The fingers that cover us Some time they are proudly nobel laureate, Our hopes and fears Some tome they are rhythmic poet They stand for humanistic cause, any where Muhammad Abdul Wahid Some time they are pleasant singer. Bangladesh Woman draw art the on wooden piece. Majestic Women Design the flowery blanket with mental Woman - are Mother peace. Daughter and Wife Sometime woman are in Without them the world is playground and an illusory life. sometime helping peasants. If Women are always with Captain of family with a us without gaps mood of pleasant. We can succeed by taking strong steps. Woman go to the river bank water pot. They fill the pot with water and swim a lot. Beauty never make a woman beautiful The great women are profecient in all fields Quality of lifestyle source to besuccessful. They are soft and sweet to speak Those Who with great mind do great deed mellifluously they are well skilled They are majestic in society indeed. Some time they’re busy in paddy field to harvest After all their duties done they meditate 31 Jute-rope made various cottage industries toward Lord, Without rest. They are decent and modest in and out, never Sometime designing dishes, or weaving dress. become bored. Sometime making clay oven for cooking the best. In family and in society the keep their dignity protected. Sometime fly toward moon destination is Every home be blessed with birth of such unknown. majestic women as it is heavenly expected. year I, no. 9, 2021, March ISSN 2458-0198 – ISSN-L 2458-0198

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021 Voula Memou Petrică Tatu Grecia România Beggars of the Gods of the The years passed quickly poor The years passed quickly God is so high up to hear me I was left with memories, and I am so small and unredeemed, With dear moments and joys I leaned on the olive root, From past loves. next to the demolished school of war. I wanted to dream how lilies grow in the ruin. You were so happy I wanted the blood to be an illusion, You had sunbeams in but I was trembling. your eyes, I hear Hamza crying, I really wanted you to be for her damn cloth doll. my girlfriend The Cyclops had been And to give you many alienated, roses. by abandonment, like ships that die late to I tell you from the bottom the erroneous memories. of my heart that I loved Rusty scrap metal, you of old fairy tales. You were good and innocent, And you ... Iniohe, travel I cheated on you, I was enchanted charmer, And I fell in love with another girl in Delphi to make me a pilgrim And so from love to love and consuls of peace. Now with regret I remember, Pull the chariot, That I walked from flower to flower let's pull from East and West, And now I pay for love. we were the land of the Dragon, 32 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. ISSN 2458-0198 - ISSN-L 2458-0198 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, With fleeting kisses among the acacias. When life turns full with stress and strain The rain gathers its feet everywhere, The rainbow takes the place of the cloudy Time becomes heavy all efforts in vain clouds, Laden under the load of misery profound We are still wet, we want to touch the colors ... Don't feel crestfallen down on the ground You don't want your body untied. All we need is support and consolation We run through the colorless belts, his A sweet sessions of silent seclusion Without paying too much attention. To seek solace of cool illumination The universe cried, now laughs again Woes and worries relegated into oblivion Covering us with Listen to the far forgotten handkerchief. musical numbers Or fall into the lap of Apu Mondal waking slumbers A soothing solace of India 33 complete oblivion Floating adrift in blissful Your name, this communion day Close your eyes and sit in Your deep black eyes meditation See my inner feelings Enjoy the glory of blissful communion Your aged, freckled, Spotted face reminds Mariana Kiss Me of sea bed corals So beauteous, serene, Romania Your warm smile is The frame of heaven The spring of life and Light. I want to think Spears of light, furrows the sky, Thunders of celestial drums, yes More on you. Your asparagus ... Thoughts brought You hug me facing the ether, Deluge and hope in Wrapping myself in the wide overcoat. Those days. Now you Sit by my side, holding The sky sheds its tears too harshly, Hands, reminding me Strongly hitting the hot cobblestones. Of eternal love etched Only the story of the rain can be heard On sun dyed rocks. And our hearts, which beat hard. year I, no. 9, 2021, March ISSN 2458-0198 – ISSN-L 2458-0198

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021 Marivic Nemi Ganimete Jakupi Demiri Philippines Switzerland. Benefits Of Mankind I miss you Beep sound of atmosphere.. You were the star which lighted my nights, Extended direct duration.. With your affection I felt high in the sky, You were the sun of my day, How awkward to be complacent..? Which warmed my heart in everyway. An obscure bout to reveal.. Instead of being haunted by dimness.. You were the best symphony of my life, Give it a try for perspicuity.. Like beautiful melody of Moxart, None of earthborn are You were a professional obtuseness... actor of my heart, Moreover in the sharp of And you made me felt edges.. comfort. Research for all the Now I miss you everyday, benefit of mankind.. Since you are left from Inconspicuous child of the me, sun... I think and talk with myself, Why this love without goodbye ended. Our quirks and deeds not supposed Please turn me on - I am waiting for you, to the land .. Please love me as I do, Yet the silence ameliorative, supportive Back my smile like before, as declaring glory.. You stole my heart with your enchanted love. All the creations can hold together.. By the source of thy voice... In sequence soliditary... Let us eradicate viciousness.. 34 Immediate action of goodness was imperative... TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE As looking forward for the tremendous shadow of futurity.. ISSN 2458-0198 - ISSN-L 2458-0198

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9,March, 2021 Šolkotović Snežana, Punya Devi Srbija Assam,India That wall there... My letter to nora That wall there knows every secret of the soul, Nora, how do you feel now knows every tear that rolls down a person's Have you ever seen our dreamed sky cheek, Where we could freely fly those bridges of patience in a nightmare as they crumble, You are the new women the despair and pain that imposes defeat. Pioneering the feminist movement That wall hears every word that pierces the Following you heart We have been launching a journey and insults with its weight, Delving to the said sky he also knows the answer Walking out through the to what you used to be door what have you turned Of your Doll's house into now, Opened by you who are those people who supposedly love you Closing the door of and in the most difficult sorrowful house situations they turn their Raising the curtain of that backs on you. Black era He knows everything Do you feel about you, your quiet cries We the women are in rapid heartbeat struggling with pain, record all the opportunities in your life, happiness slaps that speak for themselves. My dear Nora That wall there has been your friend for a long time Can you imagine and wishes you a peaceful sleep at least once, We are now free and safe drawing a line for the end is not that simple, You see, when our girl child nor hell that makes you worthless Go alone on Street That wall over there ... keeps your secret, Then we mothers and who knows how many more, Could not sleep say once - stop despair- don't let your life be made worse by scum ... In the jungle of so called civilization 35 Tigers hide in shape of human If they get chance Come out and steal their virginity Brutally done molestation year I, no. 9, 2021, March ISSN 2458-0198 – ISSN-L 2458-0198

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021 Do you mind it Gerlinde Staffler In sometimes If something bad rotten in society Italy Women are supposed as omen Then treat them as inhuman Pearls of Longings Women are burn for endowment They are given punishment This vast widely felt horizon Immerses its longings in the scintillating sea, Till now girls are treated as goods Where diving in, cool pearls bring along, For sale and buy Warmed up from the sunrays of thee. So how far our Freedom of sky Oh shells of beauty holder, You whisper gallant secrets to my ears Your father Henrik Ibsen Of magical rows of water lilies, Made you bold Because he understands Where drops of dew are What is women soul gems, not tears. But still now impacts Lulled by the watching seems everlasting terse sky, What said by his Feelings roll in opaline predecessors dances, Shakespeare is shouting Touched from the ' Frailty thy name is beholder's azure eye, women' In the haven of our golden Tennyson is flattering fancies. 'Men to war and Women to maternity' Adepoju Adeola All such mirrored Nigeria. Became inscription As well as tradition Peace we need. Partly for these rock lines Earth has even wore the sad attire, Our road to sky Pleading to the combatants to cease the fire, Become serpentile The casualties have even cried and tired, And hanging in the balance For their souls have continue to wandered, Like an interjection. 36 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.. ISSN 2458-0198 - ISSN-L 2458-0198 TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9,March, 2021 Amb. Maid Corbic I move them like a heavy tower with my bare hands to keep them from sinking Bosnia Herzegovina I extend my hand and seek the voice of reason in the game of destiny Last smile Engraved in a pale photograph covered with The last smile, as if it were yesterday, was hoarfrost and dust persistent We languish palely in our dilapidated room, Everything that is good and bad, happens and motionless passes somehow Silence, covers thoughts vague And we are left with only memories engraved in the photo And as his heart flutters, he needs a strong Cover it with hoarfrost and dust in a swing of his wings dilapidated room To revive all old Stationary; memories Everything will be as it Because life has no used to be before it could retrospective, and I’m still have been looking for us Love to cover those little And as his heart flutters, things that meant he needs a strong swing of his wings He always knows how to To revive all old fix that sleepless night, memories and he knows the Moon What secrets did life hide Muhammad Ishaq in the greatest debauchery and play Abbasi The emotion of the shallows, they stir night and day for decades Pakistan Living together while still searching for our existence Come Spring Come Or the spiritualization of life, because in the Come spring come, run friend run, end everything remains Stop spring stop, papa mama talk, Good story and good memories engraved in The air is gentle, the sun is mental, the photos Birds are chirping, people are thinking, Colorful colors in modern times, we see their wrinkles I am dancing, friend is talking, 37 How they roll and mute in worry, and it’s hard Insects are creeping, animals are grazing, to endure it all The grass is growing, the stream is flowing, Come spring come, run friend run. year I, no. 9, 2021, March ISSN 2458-0198 – ISSN-L 2458-0198

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021 38 Annette (Wengert) Tarpley The tale has now reached, its final crescendo A revealing remark made, with a hint of an Virginia 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 Theauthorhascreated,asuspenseful thrillerfor you Be prepared for him to kill off many, survivors India will be few Like desert miss the rain! Hewill weavequitethestory, his words form the web I stop of the train... For the heiress was found I am walking down your to be dead...in her bed street again.... And pass your door.... He is an artist that can create, But you don't live there imagery with his pen any more... Interesting, characters It's a year since you have are... the women and men been there.... And now disappear some You may think someone’s where... a villain, when really they Like out of space.... are not You found some better The tale will twist and place... turn, understanding and clarity will be sought Like desert miss the rain.... You were always ahead.... If you’re reading at night, you may be more apt I look up at your house.... to be scared And I can almost hear you.. shout down to me... You may be shocked to have found, someone’s Where I always to be... life to be spared I have been hanging round your old address.. And the year have proved... Darkness...he continues to paint, on his canvas Can I confess? with black And I miss you like desert miss the rain.... The Butler may have done her in, quite the I can't stop the feeling... erroneous act And there is nothing I can do... Because I see everything when I looked at Here, let me light the path better...so you may you... then view The terror and the carnage, into this book he has threw ISSN 2458-0198 - ISSN-L 2458-0198 TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9,March, 2021 prose 25-46 I Sejfula trči dalje. Kao ona navijena dječija igračka, štono je izmislili Švabe, pa se Šahdo Bošnjak sad njome igraju begovska, aginska i gazdinska djeca. Bosna i Hercegovina – Nee daaaj!... Mokropoljske Magle – Obooriii!... 1. POGLAVLJE – Veeežiii!.. – Hej, Sejfula! Čuje Sejfula na sve strane kako grmi i – Stani, Sejfula! Drž’, ne dajte mu tamo!... odjekuje, jače i od same grmljavine topova s mokropoljske tvrđave u vrijeme Ramazanskog – Stani, bolan, Sejfula, da nam pričaš ili Kurban-bajrama. U magnovenju se nekako kako si ono prevrnuo udovicu Zlatu pa te uspio i pokajati što je ikako morao skretati u darivala s deset madžarija!... Hamzinu mehanu prije nego što ode Mujagi i “Prepriječite mu put!...” “Oborite ga!...” uradi poslove. A svratio je nekako po inerciji jer se u “Gurnite mu flašu u mehani, pored mnoštva besposlenih mladića, usta!...” “Drž’te ga!...” “Ne uvijek nađe i poneki putnik namjernik ili pak dajte mu da pobjegne!...” neki ozbiljniji, stariji Mokropoljac, ili čak i neki “Veeežiite gaaa!...” pružni radnik, pošto je državna vlast u blizini “Drž’tee gaaa!...” “Ne Mokropolja napokon otpočela s gradnjom daaaj!...” uskotračne pruge za eksploataciju drveta iz Bježi Sejfula kao da okolnih šuma. Oni bi se sažalili na Sejfulin 39 ga progoni sto vukova, jadan izgled, na njegove upale, ustakljene oči, trči, a sve mu se čini da i na njegovu prljavopepeljastu kosu, na ispijene ne staje na zemlju već da usne i drhtave ruke, ruke bolesnog je okrilatio pa leti. Leti, pa alkoholičara, te bi mu poručili koji findžan ne osjeća ni kao kandže rakije. Ili bi onako usputno, kao nehajno, oštre bodlje ostruga, što odlomili od svoje meze koji okorak spečene, mu kidaju živo meso s obraza kad naiđe na obajatile i kao balega crne pogače. Ugledniji bogaze. Ne osjeća ni kamenove međaše. Ni gosti, kako ih je nazivao mehandžija, tad bi se busenove suhe zemlje. Ni jarke za odvođenje povlačili, a Sejfulu bi pod svoje uzimala grupa viška vode s oranica. Ma, ne osjeća ni svoje već dobrano alkoholom zagrijanih mladića. bose raskrvavljene, bolne noge. Sav se Oni bi, poput lešinara, čekali da Sejfula prvo pretvorio u čulo sluha. I nekakvo bestežinsko dobro ućeifi na račun nekog milostivog gosta, klupko. Pa leti, leti, brže i od strelovitog a zatim bi bacili mamac na koji se on dao lahko jastrebovog leta kad se ustremi na žrtvu. No, upecati – ponudili bi ga findžanom ljute šljive. 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 ISSN 2458-0198 – ISSN-L 2458-0198

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021 U početku rakijom i lijepim riječima namamili iskre, svojstvene samo luđacima, izmiješane bi jadnika u svoju jazbinu, neki mračni mržnje, bijesa i ironije, čineći ga još glupljim i mehanski budžak, gdje je obično sjedila oveća komičnijim. A društvo bi ulazilo u onaj stupanj grupa besposličara, sve mladih, asija ljudi, pijane razularenosti i raspojasanosti kad begovskih, aginskih i gazdinskih sinova. razum staje i kad se brišu sve granice obzira. Većina njih su propali srednjoškolci ili Tad Sejfulina koža ne bi vrijedjela ni pet para. studenti koji su se zbog ljubavi prema mehani, kocki i bekrijanju zauvijek odvojili od – Pij, Sejfula, bolan, majku ti! obrazovnih ustanova i omeđili svoju životnu sudbinu zaparloženom mokropoljskom I Sejfula bi morao da pije iako u njemu palankom. Njima bi se prišuljali i ostali prilijeva, zapravo izlijeva, i na usta i u mokropoljski dokoličari i skitnice, znajući da nogavice. će im u tom raspusnom društvu biti zanimljivo i ugodno. – Igraj, Sejfula, mečko ciganska! Momku uistinu ništa drugo i ne bi preostalo nego da po ko zna koji put zaigra I baš ovaj ludi svoju igru, igru života i Sejfula došao im je kao poručen. smrti. Igrajući oponašao je nesretnu zvijer, Sprva bi ga svi medvjeda igrača, koliko tapšali po ramenima, god mu to njegova nutkali rakijom i mezom, ograničena pamet dok se Sejfula ne bi dopuštala. Isturio bi ruke okuražio i raspričao. A naprijed, kao medvjed naučio je tako sigurno i prednje noge, i mlatio tečno da priča, da kiti i njima tako snažno da ti se veze, od kako je postao čini kako će se evo sad obavezan gost ili, bolje iščašiti iz ramena. rečeno, obavezan Istovremeno bi inventar Hamzine mehane, da su mu riječi poskakivao s jedne noge neupućenima izgledale kao najbezazlenija na drugu, usukivao vrat da su mu sve žile istina. Svašta je, jadnik, naučio u ovoj mehani, nabrekle kao konopci, kreveljio glavu sad u samo jedno nije: da se smije kao ostali gosti. jednu sad u drugu stranu, kao što to čini Istina, kad se društvo smije, smije se i Sejfula, medvjed od boli izazvane zatezanjem halke u samo što je njegov smijeh do te mjere nosu. Pogled mu je bio ustakljen i izgubljen izvještačen i neuvjerljiv da prije liči na negdje u ćoškovima ispod stropa mehane. meketanje ožalošćene koze negoli na ljudski Štaviše je i mumlao, samo što su smijeh. neartikulisani, tužni a otegnuti glasovi, što ih – Me, he, he, he!... – razvlačio bi usta od je ispuštao, djelovali stvarnije i bolnije negoli uha do uha, i to je sve, i ništa se drugo na njemu nije smijalo kao kod ljudi koji se iskreno, od mumlanje ma kojeg cirkuskog medvjeda. Iz srca smiju. Naprotiv, baš tad bi mu se čelo 40 nabralo, smračilo da su se obrve sastavljale, gotovo svakodnevnog iskustva s ovim dok bi u očima bljesnule neke neuhvatljive 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 ISSN 2458-0198 - ISSN-L 2458-0198 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 obriše znoj, te napipa ogromnu čvorugu i malu – Slabo je to, hak, Sejfula! ‘Aman posjekotinu, iz koje je jedva primijetno izbijala zabušavaš noć... hak, noćaske! – javi se, krv, i pošto najzad ugleda družinu kako se štucajući i podrigujući, Ivica, mladić šeretski smije njegovoj nezgodi, on se, bledunjava, ispijena lica, upalih obraza i razbješnjen kao pas kome su oteli kost, sjuri upalih, vodnjikavih očiju. Jedinjak gazde prema Sejfuli, psujući mu majku kopilansku; te Stjepka Franića, razmaženjak i sada već bivši ga svom žestinom raspali cipelom u stražnjicu učenik trećeg razreda gimnazije. Jednom je da jadni momak zaglavinja i koliki je dug kao slučajno navratio u Hamzinu mehanu, poletje ravno u krilo Mehmedalije Čvorka. zasjeo s veselom bratijom i tu ostao, zauvijek; kao da je prikovan za stolicu. Uzalud je gazda – Hoja, Sejfula! Ne sij bostan! Stjepko sve pokušavao kako bi momka ponovo privolio knjizi i kući. A kad je uvidio da mu to – Klizav teren, ha, momčino! najposlije neće uspjeti, počeo je naglo da kopni i – Ustani pa opet, delijo! – čuli su se pobolijeva. Naposljetku je glasovi iz svih grla. skrhan i ojađen legao na postelju, prepuštajući sve Vrludajući od poslove slugama. Otad kao da zajedno s njim pijanstva, boli i kopni i nestaje i njegovo veliko imanje. osvetničke mržnje, Velija – Dašta da je ipak nekako natrefio zabušava! Nema ništa, asli, bez julara i sporedni izlaz i nestao u degeneka!... – s nekom slatkom zluradošću prihvati Velija Budžaklić, mrkloj noći. Pratio ga je sin Atifage Budžaklića, kulaka i vojnog liferanta. Sijevao je od pijanstva zamagljenim i urnebesan smijeh zakrvavljenim očima, škrgutao kao lopate velikim a kao grablje rijetkim zubima dok se, njegovih drugova, koji su ustajući, obadvjema šakama oslanjao o klupu što je škripala, jedva izdržavajući njegovu pretpostavljali po šta je prema godinama nesrazmjerno krupnu tjelesinu. Usput, onako pijan, zakači za nogu Velija otišao. I da prava Ibre Soše, zaglavinja i svom silinom naleti na zid sklepan od grubih hrastovih dasaka. U prvi zabava tek predstoji. mah pomisli kako se nalazi negdje na livadi u pustoj i hladnoj noći, jer je svud oko sebe vidio Samo, što je taj smijeh samo bezbrojna jata zvijezda, dok se vrući znoj, od jela, pića, veselja i toplote, po čelu i prije sličio smijehu pećinskih ljudi ili glasanju leđima, odjednom preobrati u hladnu jezu. zvijeri negoli na ljudski smijeh. year I, no. 9, 2021, March Društvo je uguralo Sejfulu u sredinu, 41 tjeralo ga da pije rakiju naiskap i zagovaralo raznim pitanjima kako im se ne bi izmigoljio i umakao. Čim bi pokušao da bježi, potpetljali bi mu nogu, gurali ga jedni na druge i tako ponovo vraćali u sredinu. Jadnik je slutio kakvo mu se zlo sprema, kolutao unezvijereno očima i sa strahom u srcu očekivao otkuda će se pojaviti Velija. A on se zaista i pojavio. Zastao je koji časak na vratima, mrkliji od mrkle noći iz koje je dolazio. U lijevoj ruci bio mu je jular, a u desnoj kandžija. Na čelu, između dva oka, kao kod Indijki, isticala se ISSN 2458-0198 – ISSN-L 2458-0198

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021 crvena tačka; zapravo je to bila kapljica tako samo podsticala Velijinu mržnju i bijes. zgrušane krvi. Ugledavši ga takvog, Psujući žrtvi kopilansku majku, mučitelj je mehandžija Hamza odbrza u prostoriju za zamahivao sve jače, sve bješnje. A kad se pripremanje kahva te zakračuna za sobom šesterostruka zmija stade ovijati oko vrata. Kako ništa ne bi čuo a ni vidio. nesretnikove glave i lica i kad olovne kuglice na njenim krajevima počeše orati krvave Priviknuvši oči na svjetlost, raširenih brazde po njegovim dugo nebrijanim, upalim ruku i raskrečenih nogu Velija se polahko obrazima i čelu, rulja zanijemje. Iz Sejfulinih uputi prema Sejfuli. Glave malo iskošene usta zajedno s bijelom pjenom pocurila je krv udesno, zuba iskeženih, sličio je na gladnu i kao crveno-bijele niti padala posvud po zvijer puštanu iz kafeza dok se ustremljuje na prljavom drvenom podu. Njegove oči, svoju žrtvu. izbuljene i velike, kolutale su unezvijereno i tužno po drvenim licima, kao da bi da iskoče iz Ugledavši svog mučitelja, Sejfula svojih duplji. Čuo se još samo neujednačen instinktivno osjeti opasnost, diže obje ruke da ritam njegovih bosih nogu, što su teturavo se zaštiti i poče panično da uzmiče natraške, igrale svoju mučeničku igru. Uskoro ga i one očajnički ispuštajući izdadoše, kleknuše, i jadnik se prući nauznak neartikulisane glasove: po hrastovom podu. Kao da je nekom višom silom be, be, beee!..., a što bi se pokošen. Ležao je tako raširenih ruku i nogu, moglo protumačiti kao: krkljajući zbog naviranja krvave pjene, koja je ne, ne, neee!... prijetila da ga uguši. 42 I kao što niko ne Družina se šutke uputi prema izlazu. vidje da se gladni vuk Jednog po jednog gutala je tamna zavjesa noći. sažalio na tužno blejanje Velija se sagnu, hladnokrvno razveza jular, bespomoćnog janjeta, vrhom cipele snažno ćušnu Sejfulu u rebra i tako ni u očima Velijinog, pomisli: “Ovo ti je za Zuhru!” Zatim se okrenu mržnjom i bijesom, i odbrza za družinom u noć. Lice mu je bila izobličenog lica nije bilo prekrila tanka patina osvetničkog ni iskre milosti dok se samozadovoljstva. primicao bespomoćnoj, uzdrhtaloj žrtvi. Bezizgledno bježeći natraške, žrtva natrapa na MANJE POZNATE RIJEČI: bešćutnu rulju od koje ga nekolicina ščepa za AGA – turski plemić; bogat i moćan čovjek. ASIJA ruke i silno zavitla pravo u naručje čovjeku – silan, ohol, naprasit čovjek. ASLI – sigurno, vjerovatno, zvijeri. A on, vješt kroćenju pastuha, munjevito zaista. nabaci Sejfuli jular na glavu, potom mu jedan kraj ugura u usta, spretno napravi nekoliko BOGAZA – uzak prolaz; razgrađena ograda ili čvorova i čvrsto pritegnu tako da se uže živica. BEG – turski plemić; ugledan, bogat čovjek. nesretniku, slično oštrici noža, duboko ureza u BUDŽAK – ćošak, kut, ćoše. BEKRIJANJE – pijančenje, kožu. Oko šake lijeve ruke više puta omota opijanje. 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 ISSN 2458-0198 - ISSN-L 2458-0198 TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9,March, 2021 DEGENEK – fizička kazna, udaranje. she claimed, Cossack ancestors from Zaporozhye. However, she was Russian, she FUKARA – siromah, sirotinja. thought in Russian, and she pronounced her name in Russian – Marina, not Maryna. She JARAK – kanal za odvođenje vode. JULAR – spoke Ukrainian sparingly and only when povodac, oglavak za konja od pletenog užeta ili kože. absolutely necessary to her friends. Like all of them, she tried to talk to Marek, not very much KURBAN-BAJRAM – jedan od dva najveća in Polish, adding Russian phrases from time to muslimanska praznika. KABADAHIJA – zamjenik dahije; time. nasilnik, siledžija. KULAK – vlasnik zemlje koja prelazi zakonom dozvoljen maksimum. MADŽARIJA – starinski novac. ME(J)HANA – She bore the name of the “Polish tsarina”, ugostiteljski object; kafana. ME(J)HANDŽIJA – vlasnik famous in Ruthenian legends, the wife of False me(j)hane. Dmitry (Lzhe-Dmitry) who, after murdering him, was forced to leave Moscow, and joined a NEARTIKULISANE – neodređene, neuobličene. certain Cossack chieftain. OSTRUGA – loza ili list kupine. PASTUH – neuškopljen konj za prijeplod. PATINA – zelenkasta hrđa na nekim metalima. RAMAZANSKI BAJRAM But THIS Marina – jedan od dva najveća muslimansk praznika. was in no way associated SADIST – onaj koji uživa with the adventurous da muči druge. “Polish tsarina”. She was ŠVABE – narod iz reserved, modest, full of Švapske. hidden, slightly old- TRANS – ekstaza; zanos, fashioned charm. ushićenje. Beautiful, slender and UĆEIFITI – početi se osjećati ugodno, zadovoljno. delicate, black-haired. In ZAKRAČUNATI – the whole group, she was zatvoriti kračunom. the only one from Kiev. Mirosław Grudzień She seemed to be isolated 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 Maria Stępień Feltzman. Marina When the time of departure was approaching, he and the students from Lviv At that time, Marek was a guardian of were chatting over a Crimean wine with the 43 foreign student exchange groups on behalf of perky name of “Chorny Polkovnik” (Black the university and the Association of Polish Colonel). He began giving them nicknames. Students. He spoke with them alternately in The fawn, Slavic, wide-in-hip Oksana he called Polish and Russian, and learned Ukrainian on “Kamysh” – that is reed, rushes. Something the go. swayed by the wind, that was how he thought about it. Marina was from Kiev. A pure-blooded Ukrainian woman after her great-great- “That I can't stand on my own feet, look grandfathers, since generations. She had, as for support like ivy? Am I so shaky?” she asked, suddenly sad. year I, no. 9, 2021, March ISSN 2458-0198 – ISSN-L 2458-0198

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021 Marina was named by Marek in Russian: “Welcome,” he heard behind his back, “Farforovaya Chashka”, a cup from porcelain. “how are you doing, young man?” she asked a The Lviv girls brought with them such eastern bit wryly and narrowed her eyes with a drinking cups with a delicate and exotic blue delicate smile. pattern; such eastern green tea cups were fashionable in the Soviet Union at that time, “Why do you have such a dark look? they were made in Central Asian Uzbekistan, Worried about something?” in the city of Samarkand, whose even the name itself carried an aftertaste of a legend. “A little. I didn't find some important papers that I needed.” Before they returned to Lviv, they gave him a wooden, folk Hutzul spoon as a souvenir, “Then lighten up. Let's think of and signed it. “With this spoon always drink something more interesting than your books kvass and remember us.” To this they added a and papers on this evening.” recording of an old folk song that Marek liked to listen to: Marek invited her to the Ateneum Theater, to the performance of Giraudoux's Black eyes like blackthorn Black eyes like blackthorn “Electra”, with wonderful When will we get married? performances by famous Polish actors and II actresses. He thought he She, in turn, invited would never see Marina again. And yet he met her him to the dormitory the again, at the end of his studies, three years later, next day and introduced in Warsaw... at the National Library. He browsed there through the books for his him to her colleagues, master's thesis, through manuscripts from the 17th century. He lived in a dormitory of the Ukrainians from Dnieper University of Technology. Ukraine and She began her studies at the University of Warsaw and lived in a university dormitory. Transdnieper. She spoke Polish well, but out of old habits, they switched to Russian at certain points. They sat them at the table, offering backfat and Ukrainian vodka. They made an appointment at the exit of The topics of the conversation varied, about Świętokrzyska street to Marszałkowska Lviv at one moment and about Kiev at another street. He was standing next to the appointed one. They spoke mainly Russian, but some of newsstand and, out of boredom, he read the them spoke also quite good Polish. They did shop signboards one by one. not hide their reluctance towards their compatriots from the vicinity of Lviv… from Halychyna, as they called this area. To Marek’s surprise, he realized that the Ukrainian nation is not even half as uniform as the Polish. 44 “Drink, Marko, brother,” said Mykola. “And eat it, backfat is good. We have never vodka without backfat. You are an honest guy. We will never betray you. Live long and prosper!” ISSN 2458-0198 - ISSN-L 2458-0198 TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9,March, 2021 ... “Give a Cossack your hand,” Marek The next day, when he walked Marina to 45 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 advantage of refreshments, drank something “... and give a pure heart”... and again, and snacked, promising to return the favour. with the name of Christ, we will rebuilt our But it lasted much shorter this time, they paradise.” finished Dmytro, who had been excused themselves politely, said goodbye... seriously silent so far. already on the stairs Marek and Marina looked at each other with a relieved and knowing Together with them he sang a cheerful smile. song, “You Have Deceived Me”. Marina joined in eagerly. With wheat vodka still buzzing in their heads, they went for a walk around the “I told you that on Tuesday I would kiss campus. They both staggered on their feet, at you forty times...”she accompanied with her clear and resonant voice, smiling. one point he hugged her waist lightly ... without He wondered what any special thought, as if throats they had there – instinctively. She released three boys and one girl, herself stiffly. quite randomly chosen ... 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 learned ... but softly and “We have been gently enough so that he Orthodox for centuries in did not feel offended. She central and eastern seemed to be convinced Ukraine. Instruments are that such confidential not used in the church, gestures towards girl friends are nothing out only the human voice. And we sing a lot... then of the ordinary in the case of Polish young we are said to follow the angelic choirs in men. heaven. That is why the faithful participate more in the church service than in your Obediently, he withdrew his hyperactive country...Yes, and even simple people have hand. She asked him about Wlodek, who, been trained in singing ... for a thousand years, during their previous stay, was the guardian of from Olga and Vladimir the Great.” student groups, who had travelled with them to Krakow and Warsaw three years earlier They repaid him with the song Green during a trip included in the cultural and Ukraine in Polish. In order to honour the hosts tourist program. in a particular way, he initiated a song to the words of Shevchenko: At that time, Wlodek and Marina were constantly together. They appeared a good “The wide Dnieper roars and groans ...” pair when you looked at them. He resembled a character from a famous Polish painting: a They got up and sang while standing as if it were an anthem. year I, no. 9, 2021, March ISSN 2458-0198 – ISSN-L 2458-0198

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021 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. 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 girl. I came such a long way to you ...” He walked her to the room. She looked into his eyes and said softly: “Do not lie, you shutnick (joker),” she interrupted him. “You came to the library, to “Do not be angry. rummage in manuscripts from the seventeenth century...” ... “No, no. I am not,” he replied gently. “That's too, for sure. She opened the door and said in Russian: But I'd rather spend my time with you than with “Zakhodi (come in)”. the manuscripts. Do you believe me?” he asked and He entered the looked into her eyes. corridor, convinced that they would say goodbye “Well, quite...” she in a moment. She did smiled. approach, he took her into his arms in a friendly After a while, manner just to kiss her however, she became sad, cheeks... planning to leave sighed and began with soon. melancholy: She clung to him “Oh, Marek. You are a good boy. But what with her whole body. is Wlodek doing now?” “Obnimi. Embrace He took a deep breath and said: me,” she whispered. “Embrace me.” “He's already graduated. He works for He did what she asked for. She kept the secret police of our Polish People’s repeating softly, as if a refrain, all night: Republic. The Biezopasnost (Security Service), do you understand?” it was easier for him, in a “Embrace me ... embrace me with all way, to talk about it in her language, not his. It your strength... close me in your embraces ...” was all absolutely true, but anyway, somehow he felt shabby having said that. Polish version published in the bimonthly magazine LUBLIN 2014) “Of course,” she said softly. After a 46 moment she added glumly: “Biezopasnost ... but this is a dangerous job. Very dangerous.” ISSN 2458-0198 - ISSN-L 2458-0198 TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9,March, 2021 essay 47-51 initiatory teachings of the tale. Raúl Bolaños Romero It should be noted that in those years or times gone by, Freemasonry was really Mexico constituted for the integral development of human consciousness, everyone taught them PINOCHO: An initiatory novel. the initiatory path, they did not seek personal power but to be free internally and externally Few are those who know that Pinocchio, and so expressed it in this wonderful tale. the wooden doll out of the mind and creativity Today all this is lost and they only seek the of the Italian writer Carlo Lorenzo Fillipo power and domination of the masses with Giovanni Lorenzini; better known by his extraordinary knowledge that great teachers pseudonym Carlo Collodi, it is not a children's left us as an inheritance. story. In fact, by its length it is a novel, but its alleged childhood plot is no more than the SYMBOLOGY OF THE TALE OF PINOCHO. vehicle through which Collodi tried to deliver a deep spiritual, The tale of Pinocchio is the story of the initiatory, esoteric and Human Soul on its inner and personal journey of spiritual development message. evolution. Pinocchio is created under the Indeed, the first influence of two characters, one male and thing that would have the other female, which symbolize the two been pointed out is that aspects of God. It is carved by the carpenter the author, Carlo Collodi, Geppetto and the Fairy Blue which gives it life. was a member of the At the same time, Masonic Order, an the Fairy chooses a cricket named Pepe and entrusts him with a institution that guards mission: to stay with Pinocchio and be his conscience; This means that God places with and studies the ancient each soul the consciousness of the truth, which always accompanies it within itself. hermetic traditions Geppetto's greatest wish is for Pinocchio attributed to Hermes Trimegistus, Gnosis, to become a real boy. And he knows that his wish can only come true if Pinocchio learns Qabbalah, Yoga, Pythagorean mathematics, and grows, so he sends him to school; This represents our development, which is a etc. Collodi wrote \"The Adventures of lifelong learning process. Pinocchio\" that was published in 1882, under Pinocchio walks out the front door led by his father, and he does so loaded with purpose, a convulsive atmosphere in the Italian with the deep longing to become something superior: a real child. reunification that was also directed by another Freemason José Garibaldi. A superficial analysis of the work reveals 47 an apology for education and a denunciation of vice and laziness. Ideals typical of Western culture, but which are inescapable mandates for esoteric orders. Walt Disney, who immortalized this story in animated films, was also a Freemason. With some variations on Collodi's original plot, he tried to maintain the esoteric and year I, no. 9, 2021, March ISSN 2458-0198 – ISSN-L 2458-0198

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021 48 But when he goes out into the world the group. Our great temptation is not to have problems arise. Making use of his newfound to exert ourselves, to receive everything for freedom, Pinocchio makes some wrong nothing. decisions, and succumbs to the temptation of pride as it is said that he allows himself to be And it happens that when Pinocchio and carried away by his ego or by the 7 deadly sins. the other children have been on the Island for too long, they begin to turn into donkeys and Despite Jiminy Cricket's protests. He forget even to speak, the donkey represents follows John the Honored and joins a circus the mind and this was shown by the greatest troupe. The fundamental characteristic of the initiate of all time when he entered Jerusalem soul is free will, which is power at all times to mounted in the donkey, it is the human choose. intellect, the mind that dominates or rides you. The same happens with the human soul, when In the theatrical representation of him it is brutalized by indifference and the Pinocchio receives great applause, and he is permanent satisfaction of desire; he forgets very happy, but after the performance he is who he is and what his mission is. locked in a cage. Letting ourselves be carried away Over and over again by pride, by the \"I\" (ego), Pinocchio reaps what he can give us pleasure, but sows. His bad actions lead in the long run it always him to an unhappy life, produces pain, because it where the doll pays for enslaves the soul. the karma generated with suffering. But Pinocchio The Blue Fairy realizes in time. When he comes to him, asking the discovers that donkey cause of her confinement, ears and tails are growing and Pinocchio tries to out, he goes to Jiminy justify himself before her Cricket to ask for help. by telling lies; But with This saves him, because every lie he tells her nose Jiminy Cricket knows how he can escape from grows. Then Pinocchio discovers that evil the Island. As soon as they are free they start cannot be hidden, and honestly acknowledges looking for Geppetto. But they return to his his mistakes, repenting of them. The same house and discover that he has disappeared; happen with us; As long as we justify ourselves he has gone looking for Pinocchio. and do not acknowledge our mistakes before God and before ourselves, we cannot learn. This image is of fundamental importance, since it makes us understand that The Fairy then frees him and receives not only are we looking for God, but that God another chance. Jiminy Cricket is determined is looking for us. Pinocchio receives to help Pinocchio stay on track, but it doesn't indications about the whereabouts of his take long for new temptations to present father. He can find it at the bottom of the sea, themselves. in the belly of a great whale that swallowed Geppetto's boat. The marine animal is an Juan el Honrado reappears, inviting you ancient symbol of the reconciliation of spirit to the Island of Pleasure, a place where and matter. The sea is a symbol of the children can have fun all day and satisfy all unconscious. Thus, the story tells us that we their desires. Pinocchio cannot resist the attraction of traveling to the Island and joins ISSN 2458-0198 - ISSN-L 2458-0198 TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9,March, 2021 will find our spiritual inspiration, our true beach, he finds next to him the lifeless body of 49 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 death of the doll is the \"mystical death\" of the Remember the biblical passage of Jonas profane being initiated, the total death of the who lives in the belly of the whale here is more ego or of the 7 deadly sins. wisdom of the soul. Very upset, he takes him home and puts When Pinocchio and Jiminy Cricket look him on the bed. But the boy's action of love, for Geppetto in the sea, he is swallowed by the giving his life for his father, has made him same whale. The interior of the whale worthy of being a real boy. He is resurrected represents the Masonic chamber of and his destiny is thus fulfilled; be a real child. reflections, the descent to the center of the Earth. In her womb there takes place a joyous This tale is the symbol of our own reunion of Pinocchio with his father, but they journey of spiritual unfoldment. The meaning soon realize that they must escape to continue of life is that we go through the process of together in daylight and on dry land. In other realizing our true nature words, our spiritual in God. Conscious and co- journey does not end creators. when we begin to reconnect with our The whole key to spiritual depths in our this is love, the selfless dreams, in our prayers, or offering, which in turn in our meditations. means the renunciation of the personal and selfish The next step is to “I”. The purpose of life bring this higher state of shared by all men is to consciousness into daily manifest the infinite in life, and that is often the the finite, bring the divine hardest part. By to the human, and give candlelight, Pinocchio meditates on his fate individual expression to and decides to change, leaving his past of our spiritual qualities. unconsciousness behind. There are more stories that call them In the story, Pinocchio has a plan. He Fairies but they are the living symbol of inner comes up with a way to escape, which requires wisdom and unfortunately this humanity has a lot of strength and courage, and he succeeds. already lost the wisdom of the soul, it only But when they are in the middle of the sea, addresses its mind and intellect, preventing its Geppetto seems to be drowning and Pinocchio consciousness from acting in its daily life. sacrifices himself to save him. And this is precisely the key, what will make him worthy It should be clarified that the ego has of being a real child; selfless love. disguised itself as the attributes of consciousness and now believes that it is the When the other's need is more cricket that speaks to it inside when it is the important than mine, when “I” cease to be me ego that does. and the center of my life, the door opens that gives way to the miracle. Many stories tell the story of the state of human unconsciousness and that within it When Geppetto returns to himself on the there are the 7 deadly sins (the ego) this same is described in all the religions of the world year I, no. 9, 2021, March ISSN 2458-0198 – ISSN-L 2458-0198

Taifas Literary Magazine, No. 9, march, 2021 and ancient cultures. Zoran Radosavljević The sleeping beauty, clear allusion to the Bosna i Hercegovina consciousness that sleeps within the human being and the 7 dwarfs of him. A beautiful San princess who has to be rescued from a dungeon and the knight who has to face the Hvala ti sto si tu i dajes svetlosti trag... dragon that has her captive, a clear allusion to the conscience locked in the human hvala ti sto osecam tvoj miris blag... hvala ti sto subconscious and the dragon (the ego has her prisoner. u vremenu trazenja... nadjosmo istinu o Doña blanca (conscience) encased in nama... bajka samo nama znana..gde se val pillars of gold and silver, terrible materialism. sudara o val... gde morske zvezde zele na 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 that fear has been etched ne slecemo... Mora se in them and the mental atoms have been passed pricati da volis “i ako si from generation to generation that they are sama u svojoj sobi” diabolical things or black magic, because the razgovor u tisini sobe gde inquisitive mind still continues in thousands of people. se pomalo bojis... razgovor da se ne predajes... da celu sebe ljubavi toj dajes” da pricas dok ne svane zora..ti si moja ljubavnica mora... It is necessary to educate our brothers jer svaki tvoj nezni dodir” pokrece okeane... with a didactics and a dialectic, so that they know their interior and thus recover the leteti recima tvojih dodira... znam da umes... paradise lost, or their consciousness (awaken from deep sleep) awakening all their powers znam da razumes... Ti me vidis svojim ocima that it contains, since it contains the wisdom of creation . koje i tamu boje... volim sve najdraze moje ti si moj otkucaj srca... Svaki dan neki osecaju izgore u ocima... svaka samoca najgora je nocima..preko dana donosim ti pune ruke In POPOL VUH, the sacred book of the neznosti... potrosimo svaki sekund jer vreme Mayans, he narrates that the gods created men of wood, a clear allusion to us, but that they moze prekinuti igru bez da nas upozori... have not yet become complete human beings 50 or that consciousness is not crystallized within Svaku moc te sanjam i tu si mi sjajna... cuvam the human being. Everywhere they shout the wisdom of the Soul. te u snu kao da si tajna... ono sto se najduze ceka..najace se grli... kad mi nedostajes ja svoje snove jako zagrlim i isplacem sve sto ti zelim reci a ne mogu... Sakrijem zelje iza zalazeceg sunca. Sa novim jutrom budit ce se zelje ISSN 2458-0198 - ISSN-L 2458-0198 TAIFAS LITERARY MAGAZINE