At the end of the 70 years of the last century, a bright star suddenly appeared on the Bulgarian literary sky. For several years, it has been tempting, gathering thousands of admirers and fans around. Then, too, the star suddenly goes out to rouse the spirits of the people of art. Conjectures and conspiracies begin.


Why does the most talented poet of the young Bulgarian generation refuse to write poetry? Why waste your great talent on this genius after only two published poems? No one knows for sure.
Who would dare sneak into the Poet's soul and unravel it?


The brilliant young poet who appeared out of nowhere is called Boris Hristov. Its name has been notorious in the last decades of HP Bulgaria. The Two Poems by Boris Hristov, published before 1989 - the debut of Evening Trump (1977) and its follow-up Honest Cross (1982), are literally exhausted as warm bread on the market. In addition, the books are offered in excessively limited circulation.


Edwin Sugarev admits that he deliberately refuses to return Evening Trumpet to the Sofia City Library with the clear awareness that he will then have to pay it five times. While the Honest Cross transcribes it by hand, from bark to bark. Boris Hristov also calls for the rewriting of Boris' poems, even after the appearance of Evening Trumpet, by the great Radoi Ralin:
"Be sure to have these verses! You won't buy a book anyway. Libraries will have a hard time finding you - where did 5000 libraries go wrong with 1000 circulation? Then take a notebook from the 50 pages and copy it to this poem… The poet just takes over. Ever since we read such a poet! "

At the end of the same 1977, after making his solo debut, Boris Hristov was accepted as a member of The Union of Bulgarian Writers. Here's what it says is a successful start to your literary career! Among other things, at the end of the same year, the Third National Conference of Young Literary Creators of Bulgaria (30-November - 3-December) is held, to which the poet Boris Hristov also draws attention. The conference discusses the "new young", the new "July generation" of Bulgarian literary creators, who is coming to replace the "old" one, the so-called. The April generation. And Boris Hristov, it turns out over time, becomes the uncrowned ruler of the "new young" in literature, who has come across them categorically and unpardonably.


Boris Hristov was born on August 14 on August 1945 in the village of Krapets, Pernik. He graduated from high school in Pernik, then Bulgarian Philology at the University of Veliko Turnovo (1970). After graduation, she worked for a time as a teacher and as a journalist. She made her debut with two other artists in the collection Three Young Poets (1975) and her debut with Evening Trumpet (1977). At the time of the re-issue of Evening Trumpet in 1979, Boris Hristov is already a literary celebrity. A curious detail of his personal nature is that he is invited to become Vice President of Zhelyo Zhelev, which he strongly refuses. He is the winner of the Grand Literary Prize of Sofia University “St. Kliment Ohridski ”(2000), as well as a number of other literary honors. In a letter to the Council of Ministers, in 2010, he explained that he refused to receive the order "St. St. Cyril and Methodius "- first degree.


The appearance of Boris Hristov on the literary horizon is defined as a miracle. It is also a miracle that he willfully withdraw from glory and worldly life. Boris Hristov settled in the small Rhodope village of Leshten, where he lives to this day with his family, renouncing his worldly vanity and silence forever. Hristov flies as a meteor in our poetry, refusing to follow the foreign rules for a long and successful literary life. I make up my own. He was not born to be a court poet. Boris Hristov puts "honest cross" on giving up after his second 1982 poem


"- goodbye courtyard vanity
and gladiatorial struggles on the poetic stage. "(" Honest Cross ")


There is nothing new to say today about the refusal of Boris Hristov - everything is already spoken and written. The poet's refusal in the second verse is a gesture encoded in the first. Boris Hristov's Poetry tells of a captive of sadness and suffering, of the lyrical Self, turned against his will in an endless empty circle. In his early verses B. Hristov introduced the image of the "lonely man", "the man from the corner". His lyric self is completely devoid of perspective. He wonders:
"Where to go, where to hide
in this city, in this summer waiting room "(" Sadness ")


One of the main motives of Boris Hristov's creative work is: "What should a young man do from a" forgotten countryside ", from a small settlement - what to do with himself, where to direct his energy, his activity when he leaves the working day orbit? “(M. Benchev)


"In my life I have always come to the window. And so much.
Language crawled out later, I can barely hold my breath. "(Boris Hristov, Window)




"Two by two under the hot hat
in the sun all day wandering,
with our eternal sad anticipation
to provincial thinkers. "(" Sadness ")


Christ receives painful insight:


"The poet is a bare, moving wound,
poetry is suffering and cry in the ocean. "


Some critics have called the conscious acceptance of the defeat of life and the public rejection of poetic glory as a rebellion by Christ against the system. This is the only decent creative position that would provide an alternative to the ruling social realism. Boris Hristov affirms the dignity of the "lonely man" who has stood against the injustices of a totalitarian world. The lonely man is proud and free.


The lonely man


"He has a scar on his forehead and always sits at the end.
Even when tall, the lonely person is small.


It collects herbs, or with the strap of memories,
if he runs out of work - and removes his velvet blanket.


The head of a horse in the field lights up and the lonely man goes
to look at her simply - not that she wants her to be mane.


While others are screaming or talking about art,
the lone man at the table catches the flies and releases them.


But if he writes verses, he will surely leave
a tear in your eye or a scratch in your memory…


He has a home and a warm soup but is so closed
his life thrown out like a box office at the bottom of the hall.


And turn this house with the tiles down,
he may eat ashes, but he will not pray.


In what kind of fire did it burn and under what iron -
to learn, you need to drink a lot of wine with it…


As you go with a stain on your shirt clean,
the lone man in the crowd suddenly disappears like a bead.


In one hand he carries a book about a sick soul,
and with the other, a lone man clutches a rope in his pocket.


Why is the poet alone? Because the world is unjust!

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