#bulgaria
Where I come from - food looks perfect but always tastes watery.
Here, cucumber and tomatoes have mineral arteries.
Nomadic crypto bros enjoy fruity conversations.
French girls showing me apps that map constellations.
It's funny how new connections still leave me in solitude.
Even when the reasons for leaving home seem to collude.
All we see and feel is ultimately our own.
Promising futures in our countries have sadly flown.
Most seem to be fleeing, rather than becoming.
I've never been religious - but this must be my second coming.
I enjoy the relief of not weighing anyone's opinion.
Living fully, no longer my ego's minion.
First nights spent silently at a jazz festival.
Instead of hiding and crying - behind my self-built wall.
I've been afraid of writing without a broken soul as the source.
I hope you find your strength - you too, could do it of course.
No need to be like me, leaving everything behind.
Maybe just for once, to yourself, simply be kind.
I wish I could share this feeling of love.
Believe me when I say: your life can in fact fit like a glove.
Aug 6, 2025
Aug 6, 2025 at 4:15 PM UTC
Looking back at my first week in Bulgaria...
Do not compare Cyrillic to Russian or face hysteria!
Don’t take it personal if folks seem grumpy or whiney,
Their hearts are still huge, though their dogs are all tiny.
A deep, proud history they gladly declare,
While we Western Europeans seem to shout everywhere.
I love the slow living, its pace and its grace,
Yet curse when my beer is last place in the race.
The first place I’ve been where no card tips apply,
Only cash levs will put a spark in their eye.
Five more weeks left to wander and play,
To learn how the locals make a slow life feel okay.
Aug 5, 2025
Aug 5, 2025 at 12:58 PM UTC
Daylight messenger rests in sky alleys
Shining like snowy pearls
He glides with the scent of the valley
Fairy mist wraps up the cores of roses
Awaking their youth's aroma
Morning carries a bliss of chroma
With roots inside the earthly womb
Their cosmic songs flow
Feeding our senses with goodness
Enigmatic spirits
Has their beauty shown
The valley offers her rich growth
Petals majestic thrive crimsoned with a glee
Their oils are a blessing to all
Green forms breathe, apples, and grass sculpted within a scene
In the Land of Roses
Bulgaria, oh jewel in the wild
Your wheat and your goods spring from deep like the waters
Sep 14, 2023
Sep 14, 2023 at 9:39 PM UTC
Heady is its scent
this here Bulgarian rose
Dazed men walk drowning
Oct 18, 2021
Oct 18, 2021 at 5:42 AM UTC
The waves of the dam
near Ogosta Stadium are raging,
and the opponent of the Glory
is insecure and afraid.
Powerful choruses
the hosts sing
because the moment is coming
for a convincing win.
This is FC Montana.
Club with heart and a century of history,
with ups and downs flooded
always striving for the top and a better change.
With a school springboard for talent,
the only one that is free.
Coaches who believe in children
and in their future glorious successes.
The traditional colors are blue, white and red -
gathering people in a sacred union.
Blue hearts tremble in a fast rhythm,
expecting the match to conquer.
Small and big fans
with songs they strive,
the loyalty for their team to sustain
and give the necessary support.
Every day they long
for the strong emotions,
they share for the future.
Mar 14, 2021
Mar 14, 2021 at 8:32 AM UTC
lots of tasty foods
colorful seasons changing
as Black Sea shivers
Mar 7, 2021
Mar 7, 2021 at 7:51 AM UTC
Walls carved into stone.
The godly shapes repulsing
stars further from sky.
Feb 12, 2021
Feb 12, 2021 at 8:20 AM UTC
The first of March,
The day where red and white entangle
In the tradition of Bulgaria
Into a token summoning good health,
And luck, and non-material wealth
To the body and the spirit of the wearer
Be well, my friends, and fellow feathers,
Around the world, from near and far,
May fortune bring you well
Mar 1, 2020
Mar 1, 2020 at 4:53 AM UTC
You are a co-worker I will truly miss
So I thought and decided to write you this
Working by your side has always been great
Even on days you clocked in a little late
I am glad your acquaintance I got the chance to know
Have a great life no matter where you go
Have a safe trip back to your own country
Now you'll always have these words to remember me
Sep 9, 2019
Sep 9, 2019 at 11:05 PM UTC
There is tale of Kavala
which tells of hero true
simple man defyingly hopeful
would row the Aegean blue
Did this alone to save Turks
as Bulgars were encroaching
He knew the Greeks on boats
somewhere were approaching
To Thasos he rowed trough night
darkness of waves o'er sea
Only stars be shimmering guide
Long nautical miles to be free
His muscles wore desperate, weak
yet the fisherman pressed bravely on
for love of his wife and family
He gave word, but his heart was gone
By daylight the sailors returned
Man had found friend in Greek Armada
Just in time troops did arrive
and saved the burning of Kavala
Turks rushed from their homes
to embrace with joy, Greek sailors
Yet one woman knew of a man,
the fisherman who did not fail her
And though he had sadly perished
after his long tortuous journey
his family knew of shimmering star
a hero never more so aptly worthy
Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 7:04 PM UTC
Розите са червени.
Виолетките сини.
А тя ли?
Тя беше нещо повече
от красива роза.
Тя беше нещо повече
от някаква виолетка.
Щом я докоснеше,
цигарата сама се палеше.
Само като минеше,
момчетата усещаха аромата и.
Черните и дрехи създаваха
внушението на бунтар.
Но знаех, че не бе такава.
А може би беше?
Всички си въобразявахме,
че я познаваме.
Всички мислехме,
че знаем чувствата и.
Но тя самата
не ги бе разбрала.
И как иначе?
Преструваше се
на друг човек.
Всяка секунда и
всяка минута
живееше нечий друг живот.
И единствената причина
защо го правеше,
бе нейният живот.
Не го искаше.
Нито той искаше нея.
Светът е прецакан.
Хората също.
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 1:36 PM UTC
Видях те отвън,
беше с приятелите си.
Тънката цигара
се промушваше
между пръстите ти.
А ти пушеше,
без да осъзнаваш
колко красив си всъщност.
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 1:35 PM UTC
Не исках да чувам плача ти.
Не исках да те виждам тъжен.
Не исках да пия сълзите ти.
Не исках да се давиш в мъка.
Но те чух да плачеш.
Видях те унил.
Избърсах сълзите ти.
И ти простих.
А ти отново пропиля всичко.
Захвърли го на вятъра.
Сълзите ти изчезнаха,
но моите едва сега започваха.
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 1:35 PM UTC