Επιμέλεια: Εύα Πετροπούλου Λιανού
Hari Spasov is a poet from Bulgaria. He lives and works in the city of Plovdiv. He has published three collections of poems: “Under the magic roof” (2021), „Galloping with time” (2022), “Poetic sunrises” (2023). His works have been published in literary collections in Italy and Bulgaria. He received international recognition from Italy – elected Coordinator for Bulgaria and partner of the Association UNION MUNDIAL DE POETAS POR LA PAZ Y LA LIBERTAD. Participates in international poetry festivals in Bulgaria and Israel. His poems have been awarded in competitions in the USA, Italy, Israel and Bulgaria.
MY DAY
My day is a holiday room
illuminated by childhood dreams.
There’s love and magic here,
here the sun playfully shines.
It has no door and no walls,
everyone is welcome here.
It doesn’t even have windows,
here love and faith fly.
The fireflies here are comets,
the ladybugs – a fabulous team.
Unknown planets fly by,
pegasus running until dark.
My day is a room of joy,
my day is a room of sunshine.
My day is a room for youth
and only and only for joy.
GUEST
…and this snow, why did it come,
an unexpected guest from far away.
He decided to stop at my doorstep,
imposed the white waistcoat.
He’s welcome if he’s quiet.
We will be silent next to each other.
Let the night be like in a verse…
… and tomorrow we will count steps.
EVERY EVENING
Every night I set aside something
of the day, of the previous days.
Lots of love and some tears,
not money, not money.
Every night I pray for a long time
May tomorrow be a better day.
Children to sing at will,
for the moon to rise again.
Every night I count again
not money, not money.
Children’s joy, smiles I line up,
that I may have for all the days.
THE BIGGEST STAR
I didn’t find that star
biggest and most dedicated.
Which works innumerable miracles,
unravels human secrets.
In the sky I endlessly searched for her,
telescopes, binoculars I crucified.
I got sick, people got pall of me,
in the depths of darkness I was sinking.
Was she so close?
above the boxwood, next to the native house.
Where a firefly is blinking
and out of breath mom hugs me again.
