and she is howling with a hoarse voice to make me remember
that she used to be a wolf
I used to be a cave man
poetry has a growling stomach
but she never shows that she is famished
the most important thing for her is
to jump on the empty chair
and to be a part of the family around the dining table
Translated from Macedonian into English by Daniela Andonovska-Trajkovska
Borche Panov (1961, Republic of North Macedonia) is an awarded poet translated into more than 40 languages. Works as a Counselor of Education in Radovish, and Arts Coordinator for the “International Karamanov’s Poetry Festival”. He has published 17 books of poetry and drama.
On February 15 we celebrated POETRY @Philippine Venue of the Chinese Poetry SpringFestival Gala. The event turned out to be a real milestone in the history of Contemporary Poetry because of the high quality of the poems submitted via Zoom Video Communications, on the occasion of this special festival in China. In addition, February 15 is considered an auspicious day because it is also the Chinese Lantern Festival.
Thanks to 田宇 (James Tian), Qu Jinxing, Chief Planner and Director of Chinese Poetry Spring Festival Gala, Yu Xiaogao, Director of the Chinese Poetry Spring Festival Gala, Deputy Director of the Organising Committee and Director of the Calligraphy and Painting Art Centre, and Princess Eden Trinidad
田宇 (James Tian):
The list of winners of Philippine Venue of the Chinese Poetry Spring Festival Gala was announced,
to you all congratulations
Best Poet Prize：
Excellent Poet Prize：
Excellent Young Poet Prize：
ONE OF THE POEMS READ WAS “AN EVENING SKY” BY LIDIA CHIARELLI, ITALY
An Evening Sky
A slash of Blue! A sweep of Gray! Some scarlet patches – on the way – Compose an evening sky . . .
So sweet was
the scent of those evenings
our steps invented long distance routes
in the summer gardens
slowly the lights were lit
and competing with the moons and the stars
formed parabolas of light
on the opaque stones of the paths.
seemed to reveal
– just for us –
a sky of unreal colours.
(fragments of old memories)
recreate and break
in the weary kaleidoscope
of the mind.
Lidia Chiarelli, Torino Italy
Poem in memory of my father Guido Chiarelli, head engineer for the lighting projects in Torino 1956 – 1968