Valentina Yordanova Poetry | A popular Bulgarian poet

Valentina Yordanova

War is the black scarf
author: Valentina Yordanova – Accordia (Bulgaria)

Bombs are falling, shells are whistling.
The sky is painfully crying out of fear.
Mothers as well are crying sadly out loud.
And they once sang a song of laughter.
A terrifying sight roars in the dust –
it smells of death and sorrow.
 
It echoes far and wide. Chaos rages all around.
People are running, birds are circling in fear.
The air is suffocating with a smoke screen
and there is a shortage – hearts stop beating.
And once there was a dewy tear – fragrant.
 
Mothers are carrying young children in their arms –
looking for salvation at least for them to find.
A child is kneeling next to a woman's corpse,
sobbing loudly – ​​with tears cursing the war.
The mother is killed – with a torn chest and no pulse,
and he hopes she will see again – she is still alive.
They once walked the streets – holding hands.
 
And houses are collapsing. Wild fires are blazing.
Cities and villages disappear in a cloud of dust,
and once they were warm family homes.
Now they are collapsing with the bloody snow that has fallen.
 
People have long been hostile to each other –
their hearts – are mirror ice – from cold.
In their footsteps – death lurks at full speed.
From the war, their souls are drowning in deep sorrow.
 
Fathers have held their breath in trenches and unfurled flags.
Somewhere a machine gun bark is heard, mowing down the enemy.
War is ominous – it paints emptiness and blindness.
Black headscarves are worn by women – instead of flags.
The picture overflows with sadness – spreading sea,
from which tears roar with a powerful tidal wave.
 
There is no love between people, and they are brothers of the same
blood. The wind caresses the corpses of soldiers out of pity.
It collects scattered photographs of women and children –
turned into sad fallen leaves of men.
And the dust holds them in dirty red albums.
 
Graves sprout – like flaming crocuses,
over which a cloud of eternal sorrow and grief remains.
Weighed down on the ground – they are leaden soldiers,
forever marked with tears and flowing blood.
Hearts are orphaned. The world is left breathless.
 
And let there be no WAR – the black scarf!
History tells enough about it…
I want a united brotherhood to reign everywhere
and with love we sow the seeds of peace!
Let bullets never fly – instead of birds
and may the sky remain crystal clear forever!
 
PEACE is light – a white canvas and let us draw together
white doves in flight and create joy in the World!
 
Translated by Yoana Konstantinova
 

 
Peace
author: Valentina Yordanova – Accordia (Bulgaria)

The word PEACE – three letters only.
A holy word – of great love.
With a breath of sweetness and freedom –
it is happiness for people around the world.
 
Comparable to a mother’s, a loving word –
 so gentle, warm and light-winged.
Carried in an echo – all over the world,
reaching far and wide.
 
May PEACE reign on earth forever!
May there be no wars – fear in tears!
Sad melodies – outpoured by weeping,
The earth soaked with pain and blood!
 
And may all nations be fraternal,
May their friendship – be the sun in tomorrow.
May white doves fly freely in the open air,
And may the expanse of heaven be as pure as dew.
 
The word PEACE encompasses the whole world –
from the blood of freedom the dawn was born,
to remain in the beautiful morning of the day.
Let us all together preserve peace!
 
May war be a ship that has sailed forever,
and may PEACE be a joyful tear in the world!
 
Translated by Yoana Konstantinova