Summer ice box, bolted to the block like a hustler’s ambition. King of the corner. Hand to hand to every family man or, A fiends fever dream. Metal mattress for the meek. Chill spot on the streets, For a late-night congregation of labeled freaks; To people passing by at least. Neighborhood staple. A practicing painters graffiti canvas. Crowned with empty coffee cups turned bank accounts for the beggar. Bent from stray bullets, but never broken. Stalwart, abandoned bodegas But the ice box remains. The signature of a city that speeds away, but Will never change.
Come forward, traveller, we have what you seek Just ask your question and listen as we speak Our riddles are easy for those with bright mind The clever soon know if their stars are aligned We offer great wisdom, all futures we see We know all that once were and all that will be Apollo sings us his beautiful songs All He says happens, he's never wrong So visit our temple, and sooth there your soul 'cause those who know answers are the ones that feel whole
I failed to love round, but fallen flat, My head slumps down, over an ancient map, My eyes roll back, over the mappa mundi verge, Where waterfalls purl, and the sea serpent-sleep lies curled.
Mappa mundi are surviving Medieval maps of the world that often depicted sea monsters and dragons. In spite of a common belief, most educated Medieval classes did not think the earth was flat (known as the Flat Earth myth) nor did most scholars from the classic Greek period on. Similarly, no old world map contains the exact phrase “Here Be Dragons” to connote uncharted territories, though dragons and sea monsters often allegorically depicted the same.
The Sun stopped shining in the middle of the day The ancient tribe panicked, a cry of dismay Aztecs afraid of divine displeasure Grabbed one young ****** for a ****** counter-measure Her heart taken out, beating and warm Priests chanted their prayers so the gods would be calmed Suddenly, outside, the light was once more The priest rejoiced, yet the were stricken to the core To appease their gods, ten more virgins were grabbed A horrific image painted with crimson red
Come to take you around in Montana, my friend! From the waters of Ogosta dam to the waves of the fountain and the fabulous nights in Monteto. Nowhere on earth or the Balkans you will find a city like that, even at sea for it's the quietest and most pleasant city in Bulgaria.
A city with an ancient history, dating back to before the coming of Christ, telling of the intransigence of the people and their hunger for knowledge. A city with good people who deserve respect and esteem, people who believe in a better future and the progress of their young spirit.
They pass this faith and knowledge on to future generations about the energy and loyalty to our city. From the dazzling and beautiful Chiprovtsi carpets to the countless and charming summers and winters. Welcome!
A poem about my hometown of Montana. Translated from Bulgarian
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways From the sweet laughter dribbling down your lips, To your gentle eyes fluttering at dawn From the way you gracefully pounce across the sea rocks Gathering and sorting rounded glass—milky in color The way the afternoon sun turns your hair to gold Your eyes to deep, evergreen forests Your limbs, like Icarus’ wings Glowing, fragile,—temporary My love knots tightly for thee, unslipping However, With every yearning glance, I worry you will wash away Like the piles of creamy glass you once collected Returning home to the ocean and her waves Leaving me unmoving upon the shore —gazing