poeti
poeti
slasa Ej Zar Nema nieden poet :-)
n/a I sakam YOUR EYES deka se VERY NICE samo ednus LOOK At ME bosle FROGET ME srcevo TIK TAK FORYOU deka I LOVE YOU!!!
Divider Willows Silently listening to the wind and the bending of the willows as the stay forever enduring the years slowly pass. The stay, whispering of the constant solitude of the emptiness and the loneliness. Never and again will they break in the heavy wind but, also they will never sing those songs of joy and happiness alone, bent as they are, forever. Vladimir Nikuljski The Night Cherish the night, for she carries our thoughts. She hides our secret desires, and our wicked games. Cherish the night, the dark queen of life. For she holds the flame of love, the flame imperishable. Cherish the night, For she is fair and fierce kindling the hearts of many, that fear the blazing sun. Vladimir Nikuljski Lost and unseen We walk unseen, among the fires of hell, like hunters of lost words. Hunting the words not yet said, we became prisoners of our thoughts, of our never fading memories. Solemn, understanding, we stand firm, knowing, the simple truth, Revealed by the fate. We carry in our eyes, memories of loves, lost and unknown, of things said and done that will hunt us from within till the end of time. Vladimir Nikuljski Words Grabbing the words from the faded remembrances Of whispers, voices, silently calling We hear them, telling us, advising And deep inside we know And we fear. Nevertheless we shun them wondering Because not alive they seem, But still living as everlasting as the memory, Filling me, filling you, filling everyone With the soulless sentences spreading, The dangerous thoughts and words. Forever sorry, crying, laughing As always out and alone The hysterical horrors of the mind And tormented by spirits. Loving, remembering and gone Stiff, bonded in unbreakable sorrow The words said and unspoken. Vladimir Nikuljski Fading into nothingness Cursing the fate, With eyes full of tears Abandoned by the world A lonely child weeps, withering. Not knowing why Yet wanting to know. Not living, Yet wanting to live. Crying, almost transparent, With fists pounding on the cold marble Of the grave The child shivers understanding. And cries. It cries a cry of the bewildered, Yet it cries Mommy. Languished, Slowly fading into nothingness. Vladimir Nikuljski The stars and your fears Do not scare the stars Because scared they scare You And when scared You kill Do not scare the stars Because scared they dim their light And dimmed they wither and fade into nothingness where You are lost Do not scare the stars Because they shine in the dark Above You and Your fear Do not scare the stars They make You be good And in that goodness You heal Do not scare the stars Because scared they scare You Vladimir Nikuljski The Fallen angels Slowly falling into oblivion, Losing the immortal soul With wings cut off They lay, forever, motionless. Enveloped by the darkness They weep, For they know. Sins, heavy on their shoulders. Brought them down, Proud, as they were before, Never will again. Now, Dead, forgotten, And never to be remembered, The fallen angels of Eden Deep in the soft earth lay. Vladimir Nikuljski In the deep snow He walked In the deep,unhindered and alone With arms trust forward, Silently, as the world went by, He prayed to His father, And He prayed for us. A brazened cloud flew over Him, And the birds cried mournfully, And the animals fled scared, Yet He augured joy and deliverance, And everything quieted. Crucified,yet unscathed, As the world went by, He delivered us with love. And went. On the heavy snow, Deep in thoughts, Smiling,He walked proud. Vladimir Nikuljski www.poetry.com search for a poet: Nikuljski Vladimir
Whitebaby Anytime slasa
slasa ej pemnogu godini sum vo ovaa pusta Sverdska ali ne mozam da se setam na site nasi makedonski tvorbi . a gnaravno gi ima dosta . pokusuvam da e najdam Beli mugri od Koco Racin , pa ke postavam nekjoja od nego . Lenka na primer . aj ako znaes postavija : / pozdrav slasa
moonchild Ovde treba da se pissuvaat nassi liccni tvorbi ili od poznati makedonski poeti? Ako stanuva zbor za nassi dela kke smislam nessto... pozdrav, Moonchild Mind is a dangerous thing!
moonchild I sega koga si odam I sega koga po patot na bezbroj zvezdi lutam bez nikoj vo nokkta svativ, o svativ kolku te ljubam. No toa strassno eho od dnoto na dussata moja mi veli deka te gubam. I sega koga crnata ptica zo koben nasmev se nudi i ja podava svojata neccista raka i so prezir vo occite mi veli dussata tvoja ja sakam. I sega koga odam pomeggu ponorot i toa parcce nebo ssto e samo moe tapo gledam vo tie nekolk bledi solzi od liceto tvoe i ccusvuvam zzelba za nessto golemo, nessto strassno no vekke premnogu e kasno, od mene ostana samo nessto prassno... I sega koga si odam... Ajde kke prodolzzam podocna mi se topi sladoledot Mind is a dangerous thing!
moonchild Hvorden storden ili taka nessto... a ti be more Slasa da napissesse nessto ne kke besse losso Pozdrav, Moonchild ps. Kazzi mi kolku e sliccen norvesskiot so ssvedskiot jazik ili se sosema razliccni????? Mind is a dangerous thing!
slasa postovani moonchild Sto se odnesuva ke napisem nesto i jas nema problem samo da se setam nanesto dobro pamtenje imam ali pusto kratko e :-) Sto se odnesuva do Svedskiot jazik i Norveskiot toa e kako kaj nas na Balkasnot Makedonski i Srpski taa e razlikata . mislam deka me razbiras sto sakam da kazam se razbirame dobro i ako norvezanec zboruva na norveski
AntrAx She live's like a murdred but she die just like suicide... Alive and SuperUnknown According to My Own Rules -www.antraxigor.cjb.net
Whitebaby Slasa, eve ja "Lenka" od Kosta Racin. Pozdrav, Whitebaby “Lenka” Otkako Lenka ostavi kosula tenka lenena nedovezena na razboj i na nalomi otide tutun da redi v monopol liceto i se izmeni vegi padnaa nadolu i usti svija koravo. Ne bese Lenka rodena za tia pusti tutuni, tutuni zolti otrovi za gradi kitki rozovi. Prva godina pomina grutka vo srceto i legna, vtora godina namina bolest ja v gradi iskina. Treta godina zemjata na Lenka pokri snagata. I noke koga mesecko grob i so svila viese vetricok tiho nad nea zalna i taga reese: “Zosto mi, zosto ostana kosula nedotkaena? Kosula bese darovna”.
moonchild AntrAx, Ovie pesnicckive na tvojot sajt se tvoi liccni tvorbi ili od nekoj drug poet? Vo sekoj sluccaj se mnogu ubavi. Ja imam poseteno tvojata web strana i predhodno. Dokolku se tvoi tvorbi zossto ne izdadess nekoja knigiccka so niv? Navistina zasluzzuvaat vnimanie...po malce me podsetuvaat na edno mlado dete od Makedonija (nemozzam da se setam kako se vika no mislam deka knigata mu se vikasse "trudna meseccina"?!) I jas se slozzuvam so Slasa "pamtenje imam ama pusto krako e" POzdrav, Moonchild Mind is a dangerous thing!
slasa whitebaby mnogu Vi blagodaran da bevte poblisku barem na pijacka da ve castev . a vaka edino ako se vidime vo OHRID . ti blagodaram uste ednas
Whitebaby Nema problem slasa p.s.Mozhebi nekogash, zdravje, ce se sretneme vo Ohrid pa ce me pochastish edna pijachka Whitebaby
slasa whitebaby a moze i vo sverdska a i vo amerika dosta patuvam se moze da se desi
Whitebaby Mozhebi slasa, zhivotot e dosta nepredvidliv. p.s. Neznam dali si primetil na Profile, jas i ti imame isto prezime. Kakva koincidencija Edited by - Whitebaby on July 29 2002 03:54:41
slasa Whitebaby Da naravno primetiv vi se javiv preku E-mail ali nema odgovor preku edna nedelka ,
Whitebaby Nema e mail, si ja pogreshil adresata
slasa whitebaby zar ne e ovaa tvoja e-mail adressa [email protected] ako ne javise na mojot e-mail
Whitebaby ahahahhahahahahahahh ova beshe dobrooooo, ima sega da dobivam eden ton e-mails Da taa e ama nemam dobieno nishto, sepak neshto si pogreshil. Poveli probaj pak
AntrAx
quote:
AntrAx, Ovie pesnicckive na tvojot sajt se tvoi liccni tvorbi ili od nekoj drug poet? Vo sekoj sluccaj se mnogu ubavi. Ja imam poseteno tvojata web strana i predhodno. Dokolku se tvoi tvorbi zossto ne izdadess nekoja knigiccka so niv? Navistina zasluzzuvaat vnimanie...po malce me podsetuvaat na edno mlado dete od Makedonija (nemozzam da se setam kako se vika no mislam deka knigata mu se vikasse "trudna meseccina"?!) I jas se slozzuvam so Slasa "pamtenje imam ama pusto krako e" POzdrav, Moonchild Mind is a dangerous thing!
Pesnite sto si gi cital na mojata web strana gi napisav jas iako ne bi rekol deka se pesni bidejki ne se celosni, toa se samo izvadoci od pesnite inaku bas sega privrsuvam so edna poema koja sto ke ima okolu 500 stiha i ke ja ispecatam (se nadevam), inaku poezija pisuvam veke 10 godini. Vo sekoj slucaj milo mi e sto ti se dopadnale. Alive and SuperUnknown According to My Own Rules -www.antraxigor.cjb.net
slasa white baby cudna rabota da mailot ne doajga napred jas ne sunm dobil nikakva gresna poraka od serverot nema veza
Whitebaby ete sega e ok
slasa eden od najdobrite Makedonski poeti Kosta Solev Racin -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Kosta Apostolov Solev, also known in the macedonian literature as Racin and Neven Pejko, was born on December 22, 1908, in Velese, in the family of the poor potter Apostol Solev. He had a poor childhood, full of work and studying. Looking at the misery of his family, early in his life he understood the suffering of the macedonian people. That is why, since his early ages, he hated the exploiters of the people. Because of lack of money Racin had to stop his schooling in his second year of lower gymnasium and, with thirteen years of age, he had to lock himself in his father's pottery workshop. So, pottery became Racin's life too. But, Kosta Racin, apart from the physical work, was still interested in his education. As a child he left an impression with his curiosity and his closeness to himself. He talked a little, but he thought a lot and he read a lot. The misery of his family and the hardships of the conquered macedonian people led him, since his childhood, to follow the path for fighting for the "brightly lightened day". He used every free moment to read, and each night he spent hours and hours studying only with candle light. That is how he managed to continue his education in his own way. He read the works of the most distinguished marxists, sociologists, and writers. Veles, in the time between the two world wars, was one of the centers for the workers' movement in Macedonia. In that time, Racin, who was already on the side of that movement, first became a leader of the Veles branch of SKOJ, and then became a member of the illegal Communist Party of Yugoslavia. That is when his path towards becoming a poet of the suffering people was certain. He started writing about everything he felt and saw around himself. He wrote with the language and the word of the working class, with its great protest and even greater hope for the free life in the future. In 1939, in the small town of Samobor, by Zagreb, was published, in macedonian, the most important Racin's work, the collection of poetry Beli Mugri (White Dawns). The book, although forbidden, was secretly spread among the people and had a big revolutionary impact. With this collection and his other work, the period from 1936 to 1940 is the most important and most productive period in Racin's short life. After the capitulation of Yugoslavia in 1941, Racin was a railroad worker in Sofia, but, after the tragic death of Kole Nedelkovski, and with the Bulgarian police looking for him, he had to come back to Skopje. In Skopje he was employed in the National Library, and was living illegally. But he was arrested by the Skopje police and was taken to the village of Kornica, by Nevrokop. After he was released he joined the partisans in the fight against the Fascist occupator. So, with a gun and with a pen in his hands he practically went against the Fascists, especially after publishing the paper "Ilindenski pat". He was working as a partisan publisher and was preparing to publish a new book. But the literary and revolutionary life of Kosta Racin ended on June 13, 1943, on the mountain of Lopushnik. On that day, the road of a big macedonian poetry ended. On that day, the macedonian literature lost one of its rarely produced national son and poet. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Beli Mugri
slasa Kole Nedelkoski Kole Nedelkovski -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Kole Nedelkovski was born in the village of Vojnica, by Veles, on December 16, 1912. He was attending the gymnasium in Veles but had to stop his education because of lack of money. He went to Skopje where he worked as a painter, and also attended the Sunday school for trade. In 1933 he went to Bulgaria and became a member of the fight against the Fascism. He died as a hero on September 2, 1941, being a member of a divergent group. Kole Nedelkovski is one of the most revolutionary poets in the Macedonian literature. Each of his verses shines with love and attachment to the suffering macedonian people. His poem Glas od Makedonija is one of the most famous revolutionary poems in the Macedonian literature, calling the macedonian people to fight together against the Fascism. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Glas od Makedonija O, trajte, trajte, tirani nedni! Dosta se tija tagi i zloba - pakosen glas od ustite gadni nad mojot narod u sekoja doba. Ta ete veke vekovi celi pishka i stenka od volci gosti - za brata vijat koj da go deli za da mu gloda suvite koski. Pa neka sega sam da si resi so svoja volja sudba i seva, v zivotot ednas sam da se tsi, d'izdigne slavno svoj rod bez vreva. Ta Shar i Pirin druzno da viknat rodnata pesna v nebesa temni i burniot Egej - na vek da pliska teskiot glas na novite himni.
slasa izvadok od Beli Mugri od Koco Racin Denovi - in Macedonian Kopachite - in Macedonian Lenka - in English Lenka - in Macedonian The Tobaccogatherers (Tutunoberachite) - in English Tutunoberachite (The Tobaccogatherers) - in Macedonian Denovi Kako na vratot gerdani Niski kamenja studeni, Taka na pleshki denovi, Legnale ta natezhnale. Denovi li se - denovi Argatski maki golemi! Stani si utre porano Dojdi si vecer podocna Nautro radost ponesi Navecher taga donesi - Aj, pust da e, pust da bi Ostanal zivotot kucheshki! Rodi se chovek - rob bidi Rodi se chovek - skot umri, Skotski cel zivot raboti Za drugi, tugji imoti. Za tugji beli dvorovi Kopaj si crni grobovi! Za sege samo rgaj si Za sebe maki trgaj si - nizhi si gerdan denovi nizi si alki kovani, Nizhi si sindzir zhelezen okolu vratot navezen! Kopachite Se k'ti nokjta crna! Se ruti karpa-mrak! I petli v selo peat i zorata se zori- nad karpata v krv se mie i temninata pie silno svetnal den. Probudete se morni kopachi i kopachki- na trudot crn narod! So motika na ramo za korka suva leb, po patishta strmni, po poliwa ramni, u vivnalniov den- da trgneme i nie stradalnici od vek. Lenka Since Lenka left a blouse of fine linen unfinished on her loom to go to her clogs to sort tobacco in the factory, her face has changed, her eyebrows fallen, her lips tight drawn. Lenka was not born for that accursed tobacco! Tobacco-gilded poison for her breast-pink garlands. The first year passed a load lay on her heart; the second year went by sickness tore her breast. The third year the earth covered Lenka's body. At night when the moon wraps her grave in silk, the breeze above her sadly warfs sorrow: "Why was it left unwoven that blouse? The blouse was for your dowry ..." Lenka Otkako Lenka ostavi koshula tenka lenena nedovezena na razboj i na nalomi otide tutun da redi v monopol liceto i se izmeni ve|i padnaa nadolu i usti svijaa koravo. Ne beshe Lenka rodena za tia pusti tutuni! Tutuni-zholti otrovi za gradi-kitki rozovi. Prva godina pomina grutka vo srceto i legna, vtora godina namina bolest ja v gradi iskina. Treta godina zemjata na Lenka pokri snagata. I nokje koga mesechko grob i so svila vieshe vetrichok tiho nad nea zhalna i taga reeshe: "Zoshto mi, zoshto ostana koshula nedotkaena? Koshula beshe darovna ..." The Tobaccogatherers (Tutunoberachite) On cold scales with bronze they weigh it- but can they gauge its weight- our tobacco, our troubles, our salty sweat! From the dark dim dawns of summer mornings up to the godless time of winter evenings greedily it drinks of our sorrow, our sweat, our blood and our strength. The yellow-gold makes faces pale and brings a yellow guest into out breast. On dew-laden mornings in the first dawn bowed low in the fields of the place where we were born listlessly we gather it in. Pick leaf by leaf string leaf by leaf turn leaf by leaf over and press down, line leaf by leaf gently, sadly on the long string of beads of sweat hope with an oath and green fury with hard stares from cloudy eyes at the soft leaves all yellow gold a bitter tale of a life accursed string on so, soundlessly but clear. Don't you know this ? The day is come for the weighing-up. There is no gauge meet, it burrows in the breast without ceasing, without finding its level not grief but an oath, and in the clouded eyes unsummoned rises the tempest. The scales bear golden leaves while in the breast rage furious waves of golden grief, of golden tobacco of the golden sweat of our hands. Tobacogatherers in Pelagonia near Prilep Tutunoberachite (The Tobaccogatherers) Na kantar studen so tuch go merat a mozhat li da go izmerat nashiov tutun - nashava maka nashava solena pot! Od temni zori na utrini letni do nikoa doba na vecheri zimni toj gladno pie tagata nasha i potta i krvta i snagata ni. Zholt - zholti pravi licata bledni i zholta gostinka u gradite nosi. Po utrini rosni, po mugrite presni navedeni nichkum po polinja rodni zachmaeni nie go bereme. List po list kini list po list nizhi list po list prevrtuj, pritiskaj, list po list milno, tagovno redi i na dolga niza od kapki pot i nadezh so kletva i zelena jad, so korav pogled na ochite matni po krevkite lisja zholtozlatni prikaska gorka na zhivot klet nanizhi bezglasna a taka jasna. Ta ne znaesh li? Denot li dojde toj da se meri - merka mu nema, a v gradite dlabi bez da se zapre, bez dno da najde ne taga a kletva, i v ochi matni i ne sakajc'i sama da se diga furijata. Kantarot nosi lisjeto zlatno a v gradi luto dalgite besnat na zholtata maka - na zholtiot tutun na zholtata pot na racete ni!
slasa Whitebaby Evo najdov nekolku Makedonski tvorbi ti blagodaram uste ednas za lenka