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Vania Konstantinova was born, lives and works in Sofia. She graduated Classical Ballet in her native town and in Petersburg as well as Polish Philology in Sofia University and Jagiellonian University, Krakow. She's co-author of the poetic book Four Cycles (along with Bozhidar Pangelov). Her collection of short stories Thank You Mister One is published in autumn of 2008.
http://www.public-republic.com/vania-konstantinova

With all the Homesickness of the Foreigner

"You'll present me one Paris
with all the homesickness of the foreigner"
Vania Konstantinova

He's looking for a job,
but has no shirt,
Rose,
and expectation even in the pocket.
Whether sometimes he doesn't bend
to look how the Seine passes slowly?
Whether it's cold
(that's an author's thought)?
In this circus gleam only
the blue glimmer of the knives
(which yesterday were pawned).
It's a French movie.

Paris is somewhat little
for one grief
and nothing.

Compared with your arm.

The original:

Ваня Константинова е родена, живее и работи в София. Завършила е класически балет в родния си град и в Петербург, а също и полска филология в Софийския университет и в Ягеловския университет в Краков. Съавтор е на поетичната книга “Четири цикъла” (заедно с Божидар Пангелов). През есента на 2008 излиза сборникът й с къси разкази “Благодарим ти, мистър Уан”.
http://www.public-republic.com/vania-konstantinova


Със цялата тъга на чужденеца

"Ти ще ми подариш един Париж
със цялата тъга на чужденеца"
Ваня Константинова

Той търси работа,
а няма риза,
Роза,
и очакване дори във джоба.
Дали понякога не се привежда
да погледне как минава бавно Сена?
Дали е хладно
(тази мисъл е на автора)?
Във този цирк проблясват само
сините отблясъци на ножовете
(които вчера са заложени).
Това е френски филм.

Париж е малко
за една тъга
и нищо.

Пред ръката ти.


*Translator Bulgarian-English: Vessislava Savova
rarebird
© bogpan - all rights reserved.
Hear

Bozhidar Pangelov&Vania; Konstantinova/In Memoriam/

Under the Coat of Arms

In Malta, in the ancient walls
is beating the sea so salty.
Somewhere behind,
distant,
hidden
are shining through southern almonds.
There is no moon.
The light is illuming
herself
in the pearl of your eyes.
Harmonious.
Without gunshots
of the squadrons by Lepanto.
The falcons on the coat of arms fall asleep,
never wanted,
in honor
and dignity.

Vania Konstantinova

Behind the Gates

Behind the gates
of Mdina I hide you,
far of any nemesis,
of foam and stretched sails.
Behind the towers of the castle.
In the most inner yard.
Under the spurts of the cascade,
more precious than silver.
Here they see only
the eyes of the peacocks,
whisked their tails
for cooling.
Keepers of the secret
with their tongues wrested.
And when your brush sculptures
the bracelet around my ankle,
reflected in Venetian mirror
like a trap –
I forget who you are and the sin
with head chopped off,
I forget about the death …



Vania Konstantinova was born, in Sofia. She graduated Classical Ballet in
her native town and in Petersburg as well as Polish Philology in Sofia University and
Jagiellonian University, Krakow. She's co-author of the poetic book Four Cycles (along
with Bozhidar Pangelov). Her collection of short stories Thank You Mister One is published
in autumn of 2008. Death 2015
http://www.public-republic.com/vania-konstantinova
Vania Konstantinova was born, in Sofia. She graduated Classical Ballet in
her native town and in Petersburg as well as Polish Philology in Sofia University and
Jagiellonian University, Krakow. She's co-author of the poetic book Four Cycles (along
with Bozhidar Pangelov). Her collection of short stories Thank You Mister One is published
in autumn of 2008. Death 2015
http://www.public-republic.com/vania-konstantinova
Vania Gotts Jun 2016
you're a lie  
a painted smile
your comfort caused me grief
at last you sowed
this lily closed
with words I wont repeat

shrugs and scowls aim down
to wilt the last of summer's bloom
you once would speak
of love so meek
but never liked it's tune

a shadow cast
a frame does pass
the lamp beneath the snare
what depth could purge
this painful serge?
of that, I'm now aware

you killer
you pain
you depth of grave
by day you are consumed
with deafened ears
no cry or tear
is cared for by the moon

light dimly lit
cold dark past
you dig down where you lie
I've been released
beyond your reach
upon the brighter side

vania gottschalk
5/11/2012
This is a poem about the Devil and how he's a lier.
3:00 p.m
I woke up
3:00 pm
I saw a clock
I was a mess
Like i always do
3:00 pm
You are the reason i woke up
At 3:00 pm,
I thinking about you
At 3:00 pm,
I living in my dream
And i dont wanna wake up

Maya Vania,
12 November 2015
Vania Gotts Sep 2016
Little earth.
Hollow space.
You stretch beyond time and age.
Old, young, new and rot.
A life of wonder for what was not.
Years ago I heard a voice
call from above the fray.
Then I kissed the cheek of clatter
and spun a web of silence.
Why do we wait so long to breathe?
Why do we hate to wait?
The one that calls
from beyond the stars
gives life to conquer fate.

Vania Gotts
Sep 12, 2016
a 15 minute poem exercise.
i gave you 10
Then u are complaining
You are comparing me with her
U said she gave you 100
But u dont know...
She had 1000,
And 10 is all i have,
And I gave u all i have...

Maya Vania,
19 Desember 2017
#throwback #10and1000
Ryan O'Leary Nov 2020
Go figure
Count Dracula has
moved to Pencil Vania
currently playing noughts
and crosses in Scranton on a
Scrabble board with Joe Biden
who has just requested an eraser
maintains he put an X in the wrong bo[x]
the Count has protested said he was cheating.

— The End —