Violeta Hristova's poetry is like a collection of wisdom and remarks on seemingly obvious things in life in a whole new way. Delicate, sophisticated, she speaks the language of beauty without shouting - quietly, as if speaking to herself and the world at the same time. Her poems show her perfect mastery of both classical and free verse, and in such a natural way as if she were born with poetry.


He authored as many as ten poems, the last of which ("The Wizard's Portrait") came out earlier this year. He has won numerous awards, including the National Poetry Competition organized by the Sofia Municipality - "At the Foot of Vitosha". She is also the organizer of numerous literary meetings and premieres of poetry books.


The poems we present to you are but a small part of the magic of her pen.



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Some spirit is gnawing on the inside,
and outside is eaten by a global blizzard.
You've never been so lonely
so alienated and nobody.
And no god recognizes you as his own.
And no one here is your relative.
Behind the hills of age
one sees the setting sun.
Singing angels. Clouds flock.
But this is far.
This is so beyond.
And here you are thrown into your own mirage -
you make sand towers, then the day knocks them down.
And it slips out of your hand
that hand,
which leads you to the sunset.


… And she said,
- My land is alien
with these distances and bushes…
I want to encourage,
not to lose,
because I am made of happiness.


that laughter tempts her,
makes her illogical ...
So he laughs to oblivion,
even to the point of forgetting everything.


then said,
that he is not afraid
from the coming spills in the fall.
It has been traveling since it was created
between his anger and his meek echo.


she said,
that the words are empty,
when they don’t come from the heart.
And it easily becomes a temptation
the skillful zeal of the poets.


Otherwise, why are these words:
to drip from the verbal trees!
What are these attacks of faith !?
…she said
And he came down from heaven.


The snow does not rain


And I remember the snow didn't fall.
And how the sky does not go dark.
And there were no steps up,
they led down to the basement.
A dark sound came from the words,
but it was impossible to be dark.
And neither snow nor white cotton,
in which my weakness will sink.
The weeping apostle of sleep
rose and rose above the poplars,
the bells rang to one,
but nothing came to my ears.
A fierce cock on the sky
cursing and cheering souls…
And the silver morning perg
again outlined the circle of everything.
… Because it has hurt me for a very long time
and all the sadness sank into me -
I remembered that the snow did not rain.
Then it didn't matter anymore.


And I'll grow up. And I will fall


I will fall and grow up.
Bless this mud under the nails!
Kiss Knee Wound!
You're inside. But you didn't go anywhere.
Only your blood travels through your veins.
Isn't it wonderful,
isn't it horrible
that irresistible crunch?
This scourge is divine
of looks and regrets?
How they don't end, they don't end at all
world noises,
how silent is the holy doubt!
The poles almost touched:
the sun came up,
the sun came down…
Do I have to endure anything?
Or life is a bridge without visibility.
It's still down. And I'll grow up.
I'll grow up. And I'll fall ...


Big and small


Sometimes the big ones are born after the little ones.
Little ones think that it all starts when they are born.
The big ones know that they are still small.
The little ones always make the big ones.
The greats are playing in the world.
The little ones play with the world.
The little ones are offended.
The big ones love.
The little ones shout at the others.
The great ones shout within themselves.
Little ones can do anything.
Big ones sometimes can't tie their shoes.
The little ones have Gulliver.
The great ones have the Little Prince.
The big ones tow the ships of the little ones.
The little ones tie the hands of the big ones with thin threads.
The little ones sometimes get old.
The big ones, even when they are old, are children.
Big and small are actually brothers.

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