Today1st of November is the day of National Leaders in Bulgaria, happy holidays to all my compatriots, may God bless Bulgaria and all of us Amen!
Sacred language of my ancestors
the tongue of anguish, the centuries old,
the language of the one that gave birth to us
for joy not - for poisonous poisoning.
Tongue wonderful, who does not shout
and who spared you from blasphemy?
Has anyone ever listened to it?
in the melody of your sweethearts?
Did anyone know how beautiful, powerful?
hide your speech flexible, ringing -
from rudimentary tones what a splendor,
what extent and expression are alive?
No, you fell under the general disgrace,
muddled, muddy words:
and the strangers, and ours, in choir,
they denied you, oh, language suffered!
You have not been able to incarnate in yourself
Creation of Creative Thought!
And not for a song your genius blind -
for a rude chatter they only had grown up!
That's how I hear you, since I'm in the world!
With that recklessness terrible, fashionable,
with this review, slander,
what has happened to all of us kind and native.
Oh, I will take your black shame
and he will become my inspiration,
and in loud sounds I will give you up
of the future бодро поколенье;
oh, I'll bleed you out of the mud
and in your cleansing glitter I will show you,
and with the impact of your beauty
I will punish your blasphemy.
Ivan Vazov
Poetry by Ann Wood
Read 659 times
Written on 2017-11-01 at 17:41
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The Bulgarian language by Ivan Vazov, traslated by Ann Wood
The Bulgarian languageSacred language of my ancestors
the tongue of anguish, the centuries old,
the language of the one that gave birth to us
for joy not - for poisonous poisoning.
Tongue wonderful, who does not shout
and who spared you from blasphemy?
Has anyone ever listened to it?
in the melody of your sweethearts?
Did anyone know how beautiful, powerful?
hide your speech flexible, ringing -
from rudimentary tones what a splendor,
what extent and expression are alive?
No, you fell under the general disgrace,
muddled, muddy words:
and the strangers, and ours, in choir,
they denied you, oh, language suffered!
You have not been able to incarnate in yourself
Creation of Creative Thought!
And not for a song your genius blind -
for a rude chatter they only had grown up!
That's how I hear you, since I'm in the world!
With that recklessness terrible, fashionable,
with this review, slander,
what has happened to all of us kind and native.
Oh, I will take your black shame
and he will become my inspiration,
and in loud sounds I will give you up
of the future бодро поколенье;
oh, I'll bleed you out of the mud
and in your cleansing glitter I will show you,
and with the impact of your beauty
I will punish your blasphemy.
Ivan Vazov
Poetry by Ann Wood
Read 659 times
Written on 2017-11-01 at 17:41
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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