Poetry – Bogomil Gjuzel

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Poetry – Bogomil Gjuzel

Flood at the International Writers’ Workshop
Professional Poet
Homage to Stone
The Apocalyptic Spring
The Second Coming
A Stranger at Home, at Home Elsewhere
Breaking Up the Wall
Prometheus’ Eagle
An Island on Land
After the Flood, Them Again
The End of the Century

The Second Coming




This morning I stood upon a dead man

And the earth groaned

The deаd аnd the earth are one

(Earth, enrich yourself with our death)


Through its breаthing

I recognize the vapours of the man

I stood upon


(Before you destroy the world

Listen to your heaves

They will save you)





When the dead rise

Struggling for breath

Will the earth be emptied?


Will I then see my father






This is not the rustling of leaves

But the dead spreading rumours

And those are not furrows

But fresh wounds

Decay quickened by lime


We sit down and eat the dead

Bones do not stick in the throat

But bullets they were awarded

Or a piece of knife rusted by blood


Instead of buds nipples blossom in spring

Nipples of women who screamed

And died during their orgasms





The crypts will yawn like empty warehouses

The tombs will open like large calyxes

Of flowers no longer carnivorous


The icons will verily become saints and apostles

The churches will crumble

And in their dust the barefooted Christ will joyfully splash


(Who says I am for chaos?

So long as the laws get broken)


Hot roots but rough arteries

Burst through rock

Transforming it into another force





The dead will come off the foundations

The immured structures collapse





When spiders lower themselves from the sky

I, the little doubter, will recognize that man

And he will recognize me

By the original icon I have carried around



translated by Arvind Krishna Mehrotra

AuthorBogomil Gjuzel
2021-06-02T20:03:01+00:00 May 31st, 2021|Categories: Poetry, Literature, Blesok no. 137|0 Comments