"Shaking and direct, sensitive to pain, grabbing the heart and senses" - this is Elena Deneva. The poet Kamelia Kondova says about her: “When God wants to tell us something, but we do not understand it, then Elena Deneva appears. It works on a subconscious level, but in absolute consciousness, these words do not just touch us, they slap us, turn our souls, make us both small and large. This girl is a gift to us… "

Only at 31, has she already authored four poetry books: Happiness in a Matchbox (2005), Cardboard Temple (2006), Butterfly Still Life (2013) and Shadows and Candy "(2014), published with the assistance of the Association of Arts and Culture - Polski Trambesh.

He has won awards at a number of national poetry and essay competitions:
- UBS Award at the Dora Gabe National Literary Competition (2005)
- Third Prize in the National Poetry Contest "Hristo Fotev" (2006)
- Special Award of the Dora Gabe Slavic Academy (2010)
- First prize in the Golden Pegasus Contest at Retro (2012)
- Prize for a poem dedicated to Dobromir Tonev from the Dobromir Tonev National Competition (2013)

"Stand up. The storm is coming.

She is short and breathes lightly.

Weeds came out of her eyes.

Trails tear from her laughter.

Lightning bites on her hands, 

her hair is turning brown.

Stand up like hills.

The storm is coming. I'm with her. "

 

Reflection

"The weak-minded boy was walking."

At least that's what his kids told him.

Why?

Probably because of her sparrow

which she wears in her belts all summer.

Because of that first snow it ми

in which she left early without shoes

because beyond his broken threshold

the soul misunderstood him.

Because of the unknown language ‚

to whom he talked to life.

Or because of his ugly cry ‚

when her tree was cut

which sheltered without voice

his silent crying after some blow.

He was walking .. Small. Just like us ‚

but with faith and a sense of wonder.

I thought with my strong mind

what on earth will I leave.

The boy passed me… And from the noise

I saw a small chestnut growling

and how he kisses the round calf - the child of the tree.

And I froze - the boy has more heart than I do

for three hundred thousand reasons.

And as if by invisible horse the earth from heaven was parted.

The weak-minded boy passed. He was walking slowly after his heart… "

Her poems have been published in anthologies - "Just for You" - an anthology of the Bulgarian female love lyrics, as well as in the periodical - signs "Signs", the newspaper "The Word Today" and others.
Elena Deneva is a member of the Union of Bulgarian Writers and is one of the most promising and talented young artists in Bulgaria.

 

Elena Deneva - who is she in 5 words?

Poor execution of a bad idea.

When did you realize you couldn't do without writing?

When I didn't stop, despite the reproaches that I was mediocre, talented and writing "rhymes". That is a long time ago.

You have four published collections of poems - tell me about them…

I prefer them to talk about themselves. All I can say is that they were more wanted by the people who helped them find their book bodies than I was. I never looked for funds to publish, just at certain moments in my life someone decided that it would be nice to have a book. And I agreed. Thanks to so many people…

Should we expect a new poem?

It will probably ever happen, there are quite a few verses floating around in the virtual realm that I exhale and often lose.

Sadness or happiness? What feeling gives birth to poetry?

Any feeling can give birth to poetry. Some people live it, they themselves are poetry. I only write poems. And most often they are the sweet cure for sadness and anger for me.

Ernest Hemingway claims that life is wonderful and worth fighting for… What is your philosophy of living?

I have no philosophy for living. I die daily and do not know how to live without pain.
But I have a mantra. Again part of the verse.
“Meek!
And it will pass.
Breathe!

The wind will scatter thorns,
sharp and fuzzy like dusk.
You're so small down there,
that you are crying and jumping in vain. "
The Temptations, by Violeta Hristova

What / Who Charges and Inspires You?

Calm evenings with loved ones fill me up and shared wake-ups with my loved one. I am inspired by the thorns in the heel, the uncomfortable shoes, the "Diorama", "Ordo Rosarius Equilibrio", "Voev", "Depeche Mode" and "Delirium"; the unjust half of the face of the world and the marks it leaves on us.

Your passion for Stephen King?…

Fears are less fearful, clothed with words. They diminish and they do not obsess me so much when such an incredible mind closes them between the covers. Lizzie's novel, Rose Madras, and Doctor Sun are my books. Biographical to a great extent.

Which other authors do you read?

I read quite contemporary Bulgarian poetry. If I start listing the authors, the list will be longer than the interview itself. I lag with prose, but I am extremely impressed with Kerana Angelova and I plan to give books to Sylvia Tomova and Georgi Tomov. Most often, I read Francis Burnett, Emily Dickinson, Karin Michaelis, Wilhelm Hauf, and Neil Gaiman.

What is the last book that impressed you?

Miss Perigrin's Wonderland Home by Ransom Riggs. That Tim Burton chose to film her says enough.

What are you reading right now?

Aside from daily doses of poetry, I read (surprisingly!) Stephen King, "22 November 1963."

Poetry or prose?

Anything that doesn't leave me long to sleep.

What do you do outside of the poems?

I'm learning to love myself. But obviously I'll repeat the class.

In another life she would be….?

A bird off the Ganges coast.

Something favorite for the finale…?

Burning hashish

Georgi Rupchev
-

Pressure gauges -
mongoose
ready to jump
The flame is a muscle
clings
in the poison.
They shimmer lazily
faience and nickel
and it is quiet and painful
as if here
there is no one.
They burn in the pale
acetylene ribbon
pounds of hope
and love
smuggling.
As if no one.
In silence mad
the fan only
you
like a cheese.

Farewell,
desperate and feverish
world for rent.
There is no salvation
for the unsaved.
Outside the window - nets
and rusty locomotives.
Tenekena menagerie
lurks
alive.
And over stopped long ago
abandoned compositions
the sun is gliding angry,
tired languages.
Rails shake in the mantle
and distant bluish houses.
It's lunch.
Nase,
what that
everything is
over.

 

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