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IN PRINCIPIO

Sfilate, le stagioni entreranno

in un corpo di suoni,

quartiere di nero linguaggio

e ombre di luce,

per fare del giorno

un muscolo umido

d’amore e di vita.

Allora, craterica e bianca,

sentirai il palpito del ghiaccio

dipingere il dubbio,

scivolando sul sole del mattino,

oltre la curva dei boschi,

verso il mare salmone del crepuscolo.

Umile canto, il tuo,

luna,

nel vento religioso e torrentizio

che baruffa le forme

e squama la terra di campi sacri.

Dirai parole

tra le ciglia di palpebre acquose,

portando fiori al diluvio

che pianta radici tra sale

e sudari di amniotiche pene.

Poi il silenzio del tuo ultimo quarto,

precipitato in un nome e in un segno,

un sorriso di luce per il volto vuoto.

 Cristina Costantini

#dylanday

Cristina Costantini (Italy) è professore associato di diritto privato comparato presso l’Università di Perugia. Oltre ad essere autrice di numerose pubblicazioni scientifiche, scrive poesie e racconti. Sue è la silloge Oblique Trasparenze (LuoghInteriori, 2022). Cura il proprio blog personale https://cristinacostantinicc.wixsite.com/mysite

ILLUSION

At the seashore I was standing,

wearing a dress made of seashells,

eagerly waiting for Louie to come.

The idle moon in the warm summer night

made my eyes blind for anything

that is real in my mind.

For the spell to get bigger,

I didn' t notice at first, fascinated by

the moon' s charm, that Louie was

nobody else but the haughty moon itself,

whose eyes were full of mischief,

and that my seashells dress

was called illusion, in fact.

I imagined first that for Louie

it should have been called Louise.

Jadranka Bjedov

#dylanday

Jadranka Bjedov Is an English teacher, a poetess and translator from Serbia. She has published three collections of poetry so far.

She is a member of the Association of Writers of Serbia

The full winter moon rages on -
her celestial serenity
over the crowded city horizon  
an existential irony
for Earth's anxious gazers.
The skeleton-like trees
on the smoke-filled streets
crave a moonlight kiss
a sweet silvery light
for their survival
and revival.
Beneath the denuded boughs,
I rankle on the invisible edges -
ineffable hay wires,
digital hops
weighing on my head;
canceling narratives
crisscrossing currents
tugging at my heart.
The moon rages on
over the Mediterranean
and the Black Sea -
from Gaza to Ukraine.
The moon rages on
the pain rages on.
Does the moon hear
cries from the tides
it provokes
on the troubled shores?
Beneath the denuded boughs
images of the crushed souls
stare into my eyes
shatter my ideals -
illusions under broad daylight
monsters at night.
Oh, how I seek
to light my way
out of the nebulous existence,
feed my famished soul
on a moonlit night -
immersion of
the human and Nature!
Will I find solace
in the beauty and awe  
of the raging winter moon,
to live through
the climatic roars
and wasteful conflicts
for I am just a human
lost in search
of my perennial halo?

 Ali Imran

#dylanday

Ali Imran is a poet based in Washington D.C. His poetry represents multiple elements of meta-modernity with a blend of Eastern and Western cultures and thoughts. In his poems, Ali reflects on disconnects in modern life, climate change, immigrant pains and promises, peace, love, and metaphysical existence in the contemporary world. His poems have been translated into several languages and won acclaim for the novelty of themes and styles.

UNDER THE SAME MOON

Watching the full moon over the rice field

And the perfect face of a peaceful night,

Then, listening to the nocturnal music

Of the insects and the playful wind,

Those were the days

I meet sometimes only in my dreams.

I know that

The moon doesn’t stop appear in the same sky.

I know that

I can still watch it

Over the rooftops in my city.

But the moon seems lonely, sometimes in my eyes

That have already witnessed so many moonless nights.

But I wonder-

How far I have come,

How many roads I have walked,

How many sleepless nights I survived,

Under the same moon in the sky!

No more, I can hear the songs of the night

But looks like I feel the silence and sadness

Of the night

Hiding behind the veil,

Beautifully crafted by the moonbeams.

Misna Chanu, India

#dylanday

Misna Chanu is a bilingual poetess, writer, author, humanitarian, translator and an editor from Assam (India), currently living in Gurgaon (India). Writing is not her hobby or passion but a call of her soul. She writes in her mother tongue Manipuri and in English. She has published three poetry books; “A Little Piece of Melancholic Sky”, “Many Shades of Love, “The Silent Whispers”, one short story book for children named “Once Upon a Time” and edited seven anthologies of poetry and short stories. Her poems have been translated into 13 international languages and published in journals, anthologies and magazines worldwide. 

MOON, SOON

Soon, round, big

Moon is in the lake

Rippling in circles

Swimming on the surface

Simply floating

He has just dropped in

So big and flat, full and pale

Hanging from above

Mentioned dead-dark

Pitch-black velvet sky

Looks like cutout

And fallen of

Like the biggest pearly

Dewdrop collapsed

From a spider web of night

And splashed on his mirror

To wave circles on the water

And drink

Lukewarm mildness  

To the fullest

Irena Jovanović

 #dylanday

Irena Jovanović  from Zaječar, Serbia is a Master of Ceramics Design,

painter, sculptor and poetess. She has been writing poetry since 1992, and has

published her poetry book „Let It Be“ with „Inner Child Press“ in the

USA in 2013. She writes poetry both in Serbian and in English and

publishes in online magazines, Facebook groups, and her Facebook page,

as well as in printed magazines in her country and abroad.

SACRIFICE

Nibbling the Moon

with zest,

the Night raised a cup

to toast for the new blood.

Croaking insidiously

above the unseen,

the azure Sky tickled the Moon

and nailed her in the trees canopy.

Fading voiceless

in front of the nausea,

the foamy Morning laid her down

to rest in the flowers nest.

Sinking in agony

in the arena’s forepart,

the Sun melted her with rain

and kept her in the heart.

© Vesna Mundishevska-Veljanovska

#dylanday

Vesna Mundishevska-Veljanovska (1973, Bitola) is a member of the Macedonian Writers' Association and Macedonian Sciencе Society – Bitola. Author of 18 books of poetry and critical-essay books, and (co)author of 9 vocational books for teachers. Editor of literary journals and books. Translated into many languages and awarded.

UNDER THE SPLENDOROUS MOON

When I was a child, my landscapes

were green, and the summers were long.

My dreams were like shells

floating in the infinite blue sea.

Later, my dreams and my body

were shattered by the machines

of the world,

and my brain, dreaming of daisies

and water springs plunged

into the night of black hammers.

Incessant wheels crushed my liver,

red, bleeding, like that of Prometheus,

that eagles come and eat under

the ashen sky,

and the white secrets

of the splendorous moon.

Maria do Sameiro Barroso, Portugal

#dylanday

Maria do Sameiro Barroso is a Portuguese multilingual, globally awarded Poet, Translator, Essayist, Medical Doctor, and Medical Historian with over 40 poetry books published in several languages and countries, translations and essays.

قمر قلبي

عبدالباسط الصمدي أبوأميمه 

اليمن

أنا شاعر بقلبه يكتب الشعر

 ويجري الحب بأوردته و يستمر

كلمات الحب التي أكتبها 

وجدت الفرح بلا موعد

 وكل كلمة خبأتها في صدري 

من أجل الحب تلوم صبري

 كتاباتي فرح كرحيق الأزهار

و كلماتي ترددها أمواج البحر

 من الأرجنتين إلى الصين

 أكتب الشعر من ابتسامة تركتها 

على صدري و من نظرة سرعت

 النبضات وعكست للقلب الدوران 

أنا أكتب الشعر لامرأة أحب أن أحبها

 و أحب ان أضمها إلى صدري

 في رحلة الفرح رأيتها 

 وهي جميلة جداً 

كأنها قمرا في الليل 

 من أجل عينيها ملأت الأرض

 ابتسامة من حروف اسمي 

حتى اذابت دموع الوريد الصخر

 ولأجل عينيها كتبت على الحجر

أحبك حتى تركت دموع الورد

 علامة على الحجر  

 أحبها مذ أشرقت كالشمس 

على مكان الحب في صدري

أحبها جداً و معها أنسى 

حتى الشوق

هي لو ابتسمت يكبر الفرح

 في صدري وإذا ضحكت

 يبدأ الربيع واحتفل بالفرح 

عبدالباسط عبدالسلام قاسم الصمدي 

اليمن

The moon of my heart

I am a poet who writes poetry

with his heart and love flows through 

his veins and continues

The words of love that i write

 I found joy without appointment 

And every word I hid in my chest

 for love blame my patience

 My writing is joy

 Like the nectar of flowers

And my words are echoed the waves

 of the sea from Argentina to China

I write poetry from the smile 

left on my chest and from a look that quickened the pulse and reversed the rotation of the heart

I write poetry for a woman 

I love to love

 and I love to hold close to my chest

On the journey of joy, 

I saw her and she was very beautiful, 

as if she was the moon in the night

For her eyes, Iam filled 

the earth with a smile

from the letters of my name

until the tears of the vein

melted the rock

And for her eyes I wrote, 

“I love you,” on the stone. until 

the rose’s tears left a mark on 

the stone

I love her since she shone like the sun

 on the place of love in my chest

I love her very much, and with her

I forget even the longing

If she smiles, 

the joy in my heart increases, 

and if she laughs, spring begins

 and I celebrate with joy

Abdulbasset Abdulsalam Qassem Alsamadi 

Yemen

#dylanday

Abdulbasset Abdulsalam Qassem Alsamadi.

Engineer and poet I have translated some of my poems from Arabic into other languages Arab newspapers and magazines, print and electronic, publish my poems