My associations to one of the poems read by my friend, the outstanding Azeri-Turkish poet of our time Mehmet Ismail.
Memories of our old meetings in Paris and Podgorica still warm my soul.
No one knows yet
In a foreign land
sleepless nights
Watching over
Memories
In a foreign land
the days are longer
than the life lived
at home.
Mother used to
used to lap
at my headboard,
now it’s death.
And my mother is waiting,
and the motherland hurries,
The roads are different,
but the same fate.
Yesterday, editor and literary critic Dmytro Drozdovsky received wonderful news about the publication of his…
The war goes on.The war goes on.War runs.War flies.Today I rememberwith what passionin my childhoodwe…
Yesterday, Oleksandr Korotko received a letter to his personal mail, which mentioned the intention of…
Olexandr Korotko is constantly working on new works, which we regularly publish in the relevant…
* * * Love is bitter by separation, by almonds, a ruined era, November, the…
* * * Is it possible to get tired of many circumstances, of monotonous and…