I translated and analyzed Faynberg’s poem from Russian to English.

Сирень

Давай любовь свою оплачем.

Давай свидание назначим,

Не мучаясь и не грустя.

Сегодня. Десять лет спустя.

Давай сирени наломаем.

Любила ты? И я любил.

Апрель цветёт, как ненормальный.

Апрель заборы проломил.

Сирень горька и безутешна.

Сорви мне счастье наугад.

Мы изменились? Мы всё те же,

Как десять лет тому назад.В глазах твоих все те же кроны.

В моих — всё тот же синий дым.

Стекло с вином губами тронув,

Ты говоришь: «Горим?»

— «Горим!»

Куда? О чём? За что горим мы?

Ах, за начала всех начал!

За польский вальс неповторимый.

Он только нам с тобой звучал.

— Горим?

—Горим! За наши годы.

Кольцо на дно со звоном брось.

За то, что дым сирени горек.

За всё, что в жизни не сбылось.Любовь, куда? Не оглянулась.

О, это вечное «увы».

Горим же за чужую юность!

Они целуются, как мы.Горим за всё! За наши беды.

За эту музыку и боль.

За этот мир, от яблонь белый

И от сирени голубой.

Lilac

Let’s lament our love,

Let’s set up a date

Without torment or sorrow,

Today. Ten years later.

Let’s break lilac branches.

You loved, and I loved.

April blooms like it’s abnormal,

April breaks through the fences.

Lilacs are bitter and hopeless.

Tear out happiness for me at random.

Have we changed? We’re still the same

As ten years ago. In your eyes, it’s still the same foliage.

In my eyes, the same blue smoke.

Touching the glass with wine-soaked lips,

You say: “Are we burning?”

— “We’re burning!”

Where to? What about? What are we burning for?

Ah, for all the beginnings there are!

For the unique Polish waltz,

That only sounded for us.

— Burning?

— Burning! For our years.

Throw the ring to the bottom with a clang.

For the bitter smoke of lilacs.

For everything that hasn’t come true in life.

Love, where to? Without a glance,

Oh, this eternal “alas.”

We’re burning for someone else’s youth!

They are kissing, like we did.

Burning for everything! For all our sorrows.

For this music and pain.

For this world, white from apple trees

And blue from the lilacs.

The poem “Lilacs” delves into the complex theme of love, reminiscence, and the passage of time. It begins with an invitation to lament lost love and to set up a date ten years later without torment or sorrow, acknowledging the enduring nature of the emotive moment.

The author then employs vivid imagery by suggesting to break lilac branches, a symbolic act tied to the past relationship. The poem invokes the spirit of April, alluding to its abnormality, and depicts it shattering through the constraints, almost rebellious in its blooming.

The bitter and hopeless nature of the lilacs reflects the disillusionment and unfulfilled emotions tied to that past connection, calling for the unpredictable tearing out of happiness. The narrator questions if they’ve changed over the years, only to conclude that they remain the same as a decade ago, hinting at the persistence of their emotions.

The dialogue within the poem adds depth, as a conversation ensues about burning and the reasons behind it. The questioning of the purpose of their burning and the acknowledgment of past memories creates a reflective and introspective atmosphere, offering a sense of poignancy and longing.

The poem concludes with a broader reflection on burning for someone else’s youth, symbolizing feelings of lost opportunity and nostalgia. It captures a sense of yearning, loss, and a longing for the unfulfilled aspects of life.

In summary, the poem “Lilacs” conveys a deep sense of melancholy and introspection, blending vivid imagery with symbolic meaning to encapsulate the complexities of love, loss, and the passage of time. It evokes a poignant narrative that draws the reader into a contemplation of the enduring impact of love, memory, and the emotive threads that linger on throughout life’s journey.

✓Safarova Zarnigor Zokhid’s daughter student of Uzbekistan  state world languages university

✓Young aspiring researcher

✓Author of several scientific articles on gender in linguistics

✓Scientific works, poems, reviews, thesis and articles have been published at national and international newspapers, conferences and journals.

✓She has published three books internationally and her books are available for sale on Amazon and several other sites

Twin Sisters

I knew I wanted her for a model when I saw the portrait selection at the Portland Art Museum.  She was painted hanging out of the passenger seat of a car waving at something unseen by the museum visitors.  I don’t know if I’m right, but I thought of early Marilyn Monroe.

Despite that my usual work is painting high-priced portraits for the city’s makers and shakers, politicians and business people; I knew I had to paint her.  Didn’t matter if I didn’t sell anything that I painted of her, I’d be happy to keep anything with her in it.  She had an aura which came through the dead canvas.

I checked the artist of her painting – it was George Shaw, somebody I knew well.  As soon as I got home, I asked him how to contact the woman in his painting.  He told me he would check with her to see if she wanted to contact me.  This was highly unusual because most models would welcome a new client without screening him first.

My obsession with the unknown woman kept me fidgeting at home hoping for her call.  Fortunately she called quickly.  “Hi, this is Janice Fellows.  George said you’d like me to model for some paintings.  In all honesty, I’m in high demand, but I’ve been keeping Fridays clear in case something good comes up.  You should be happy to know that you are in high regard among other local painters.  Let’s get acquainted this Friday, say at 3, and see if this works for both of us.  If it works out, bring your paints in case you want to start.”

I had a client meeting about a portrait of a much married tech multi-millionaire who wanted a painting with his adult children and his much younger wife.  Didn’t care, even if it cost me a five figure commission, I would not miss meeting Janice.  She gave me her West Hills address, a couple of miles from my place close to Portland State University.

It was three days until Friday.  Keeping my mind focused on my projects while awaiting our meeting was hell.  I felt like a teenager with a burning crush.  When the time came, after a mile or two of walking to Janice’s house, a very different woman met me at the door.  This woman was clearly older than Janice, had mousy brown hair, a bit of a paunch, and a pock marked face.  She could tell from my face that she was not what I expected.

“Hi, I’m Janice’s sister, fraternal twin, Jody.  You must be Frank.  Yes, I know we look nothing alike.  One of us is the brains, one is the beauty.  I’m obviously the beauty”.  This last was followed by a cackle.

“Now that you’ve heard my standard joke, here is the reality.  She does the modeling which brings in plenty of coin.  She isn’t dumb, but uninterested in the business end.  I do the buying, pay the bills, collect the money, do the accounting.  Between the two of us, we do alright.  She is always late to her meetings, it’s not a bug it’s a feature.”  She laughed at her joke again, while I tried to make sense of the situation.  “Want to sit down, have a drink, or discuss politics while you wait?  By the way, her fee is the going rate.”  At the time, the going rate was $100 per hour, more or less.  As an independent contractor she didn’t get Social Security or unemployment pay from a client.

Given those choices, I asked for a Scotch.  We ended up talking about painting and art in general while we waited.  After a while, Jody said she had some business to take care of and went through a door marked “Business Office”.  I finished my drink, and after a few minutes Janice came out to usher me into her studio.

If possible Janice was more than I expected from the painting.  I very much appreciate soft, voluptuous female flesh, and Janice had it in abundance.  She asked in a voice like honey “What do you want to do today?”

I almost slipped up and told her what I really wanted to do, but instead said “How about I take a few sketches”.  She agreed, and I spent a few minutes with my sketch pad.

“Janice, how do you feel about plein art?”

“Frank, I don’t leave my house.  Jody takes care of everything so I have no reason to leave.”

“It’s too bad; I’d really like to paint you at the beach.”

Janice laughed, and went to a trunk.  She pulled out a folded coastal backdrop with crab shells, a mix of different colored sand, with waves in the background.  Think you can paint me now?”

She was dressed quite modestly, so I told her she wasn’t dressed for the beach.

“No problem”, and with that she completely disrobed and went to her wardrobe and put on a swimsuit.

I did what I could to hide my arousal.  She looked and laughed again.  “So you are happy to see me.”

We went through the posing and lighting until we were both pleased.  I spent the next hour painting.

When finished, I got ready to go.  She grabbed my hand before I could leave and said “I like you, why don’t we get really happy before you go.  You won’t be charged for the extra work.”

Her very comfortable couch got a strenuous workout.  She inspired me to perform like my long gone teen years.

On my way out Jody gave me a very lecherous look including winks and asked “Want to schedule this for the Fridays into the future?”

I managed a strangled “Uh, yes.”

George knew about my meeting with Janice and called me later that day to ask about it.  I told him that it went well.  After a pregnant pause during which I suspected George was expecting something a little risqué, he said “Uh, good.   Glad it went well.”  This made me wonder about George’s sessions with Janice.

The next several Fridays seemed literally magical.  Janice looked different every Friday and not just hair, lighting or makeup.  Her nose changed size, both up and down.  After wondering if she could be too voluptuous, the next week she was slightly, but visibly thinner.  Whenever I would think of an outdoor setting for a painting, she would pull an appropriate backdrop out her trunk.

Did imagining her behaving as we did every Friday with her other clients bother me?  Sure, but one day a week with Janice, was worth all week with someone else.

At the same time, I got closer to Jody.  She was so intelligent and charming, her looks ceased to matter.  If we talked about something as boring as weather, she could quote outstanding world rainfall or heat statistics.  She was an expert on all the areas of art – painting, writing, acting, all of it.  She solved math puzzles for fun.

After the fifth modeling session with Janice, I invited Jody out to dinner at my place.  After eating, we started telling jokes.  “A priest, a parson and a rabbi go into a bar.  The bartender asks ‘Is this some kind of joke?’”

Next we went into dirty stories.  I surprised both of us by telling her “You can sleep here tonight if you want.”

The next morning I woke up with a different woman – Janice.  I jumped out of bed and yelled “What the hell!?”

Janice said “The short answer is that I’m what you might call a witch or a really good hypnotist.  I can appear to people any way I want.  It’s called casting glamors.”

“I don’t believe it.  You and Jody pranked me.  You switched while I was asleep.”

“You think so?  Then how about this.”  Jody appeared where Janice had been.

I spent a couple of days in a catatonic state.  During that time I had a lucid dream.  It took place in Janice’s apartment.  I wasn’t there, but I could see what was happening.  Instead of Jody going into her business office, it was Dinah who had a crush on me in college.  I hadn’t treated her well then, so I yelled at her “I’m sorry, I treated you badly”.

She looked around and said “It sounds like you Frank, but I don’t see anyone”.  Dinah’s clothes and appearance slowly morphed into Janice as she went through Jody’s office and through a door into Jody’s studio.  I was in the studio, but I woke up before anything else happened.

I knew then how and when the Jody to Janice transformation was hidden from me and I remembered that I had never seen them together.

Coming out of catatonia, I realized how fortunate I was.  Now it’s Fridays with Janice, and other times with Jody.  Rather than try to make sense of it, I just accept that I’m the luckiest man alive.  I don’t dwell on what Janice does on days that I don’t see her.

Before meeting Jody and Janice, I was a twice divorced sad sack chasing money.  I now know that I can accept and give love.  I’ve cut back on some of my lucrative work, and do pro bono or inexpensive work for poorly funded charities, houses of worship, and uplifting murals.  The Art Museum now has a small room with a permanent exhibition of several paintings of Janice and Jody.  They should be shared with the world.

A Review of gnōstos, volume VII of  The Grammaton Series

by Joshua Martin

gnōstos (BlazeVOX, 2023), volume VII or Irene Koronas’ The Grammaton Series, continues her trajectory of extreme experimentalism through a fragmented poetic language filled with radical juxtapositions, snippets, neologisms, and minimalistically ecstatic aphorisms. Linguistic flares and miniature rhapsodies. Each word a new world unto itself, brimming with exaltation, reveling in the illogical and the mystic. Overflowing with rich treats and poetic mashups. A heady potpourri of languages and references, this wildly inventive and diverse work probes the very nature of our 21^st century world. Filled, as it is, with huge amounts of textual varieties, never standing still, always performing new and perverse syntactical experiments and collisions.

Letters, words, language itself, are simply building blocks for an expansive and stimulating poetics that reaches into the fringes of what language can and should do. At times reminiscent of Russian Futurism (particularly Khlebnikov and Kruchenykh) and its desire to transcend conventional language, creating something spontaneous through Zaum, Koronas’ work seems to be developing a new language all its own, free from the rigidity of grammar, syntax, and vocabulary, no matter its origin. And there is a myriad of origins in Koronas’ work. Her seemingly endless knowledge of a wide range subjects, alphabets, theories, languages, and texts is impressive and inspiring. Koronas’ work is written with a scholar’s information and an experimental poet’s skill. Khlebnikov’s “language of the gods” and “language of the stars” aptly applies to gnōstos.

Though the length of many of these lines are often quite brief, they are packed with beauty, sublimity, and chaos. Many words are new creations in themselves. Disorienting, transfixing, and sonically innovative, gnōstos deftly explodes poetic convention, instead offering the reader a dizzying array of staccato riffs and verbal treats. There is no net. As readers, we are free floating among her endlessly unique creations. At times, the speed at which Koronas’ lines whizz by can make us feel lightheaded in the best possible sense. We feel as though we are reading lightning strikes on a page. 

Language is taken apart, constructed, reconstructed, and made into an entirely new thing. Mystical and rapturous, reading Koronas is like reading an invented language, offering us a whole new way of seeing, being, and understanding. A poetics that wishes to explode, implode, and pull apart all conventions in order to find something truly novel. Experimentation at its finest. A radical performance seeking to encompass the entire cosmos in its fragments.

Exciting, elusive, entirely readable, illogical, visionary, and virtuosic. Bending, breaking, forming and reforming. Reading gnōstos is an inspiring and disorienting experience. A work which requires multiple readings in order to truly absorb its many secrets, mysteries, and triumphs. The Grammaton Series is a massive undertaking not only in its length and scope, but in its bold and formidable search for invention. gnōstos is reaching for something unique and intangible, pulling readers along as far as it can toward something visionary and profound.

Irene Koronas’ new book gnostos is available from publisher BlazeVox here.

GRAVE AND LIFE

Hi guys! Hope you are well by the grace of Allah.
Friends, my religion is Islam and it is the fastest growing religion in the world. But many times I have heard some negative thoughts and rumors from the people of other religion.
Now I am here to fix those issues.

Introduction: Burial is a process where we have to bury people in soil after they die. But before burying we have to complete some more cultural rituals. First of all we have to wait, so that many people can see the dead man last time and can get support from other
people. Then we have to wash the body to make the body holy and clean. Then we took “khatiya” means a type of vehicle which is powered by four people by hand. Before burying we
have to say a prayer for that the dead person that Allah will forgive the man and give him/her Paradise. Then we bury the body with a white cloth named ‘Kafon’.

Negative thoughts: the negative thoughts of other people are:

1. Burial takes up too much space
2. Burial doesn't offer anyone benefits
3. Burial costs too much money for the land and plot
4. Burial is useless

Now I will tell you the advantages

Natural advantages: first of all we don’t have enough trees and the climate is changing every year and we are at risk. But when we make a family place for graves we will have a garden of trees. On the other hand the water level is decreasing every year because of concrete and human made structures. But when we have a place for graves we automatically make a place where the soil can absorb water. And also the dead body will serve as natural fertilizer for soil.

Emotional advantage: In many religions like Hinduism, they burn the body and throw the ashes into the Ganga river. Because of that fire there is air pollution and they can't feel the loved one again physically. But when it comes to a grave there aren't pollution problems. In fact it is healthy for nature. And you can share your feelings with the people in front of the grave. In fact if you are worried about the dead person, you can also pray for him/her in front of the
grave and the next generation will also recognize the dead people.

Now many people will tell that grave takes too much space but I have to tell you that it is renewable. In fact, in the soil of your property there is a buried person. It can be 50,100,150, 200 years old and that is true.

(Disclaimer: It is made only for education purpose. We are not doing hate speech. We are just telling what truth is.)
Thanks.

Mahmudul Hasan Fahim is a student of grade 9 in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.

He was brought to the hospital in a serious condition. His internal organs were also ruptured from the strong blows. The doctors could not find out who did this until the police officers arrived. The mother, who was crying on top of the child, was punching her chest, but it was clear from her eyes that she was hiding something. The child was connected to an artificial respiration machine and was on the verge of dying. Only then did the woman begin to tell the truth.

- When they came to drink, I was in the kitchen, Akmaljon was playing in the corridor. As a young child, he asked for money for ice cream, not knowing what condition his father was in.

Unfortunately, his condition worsened. The doctors provided all the help they could, but the injuries were so severe that the doctors were helpless. They brought the mother in to say goodbye to her child. Pib slowly opened his eyes after hearing the sound of his crying mother. He removed the artificial respiration device from his mouth and began to speak.

"Dude, I didn't ask for ice cream, I asked for money for medicine. You said you had a heart attack. So...
He began to breathe heavily. But he stopped the hurrying doctors and explained with a sign that he wanted to tell them what he had to say.

- Don't cry, my father doesn't drink anymore.
- Well, let him die without drinking, instead of putting you in this situation, wouldn't it be possible to break his legs?

- Don't curse him, he won't be able to walk if his legs are broken.
The boy stared hopefully at the door. If his father came in now, he was ready to throw himself on his lap and hug him tightly. Not the cursed one, whose eyes were filled with blood and brutally beaten two hours ago, but he once carried him on his shoulders and He finally wanted to see his lover, who led him to the store and bought him cars. His father is not there, he did not come. After losing hope, he called the detective who was standing on the corner.

- Uncle, please don't arrest my father, he is a very good person. You will see that he will be a good father again as before. Because I will become an angel and always pray for him.
The experienced officer, who had seen various crimes, could not stop himself. The boy's life was cut off before he promised the boy with tears in his eyes...

However, the law takes precedence over any promises. Taking into account the fact that he has a family and other children, a lighter punishment was given. The father could not bear this sin and committed suicide several times in prison. they did not punish him for it.

I turned to the mother who told me this story with tears in her eyes:
- Your husband got out of prison, has he stopped drinking?
He sighed deeply, showing a smiling photo of his sweet 6-year-old son in his hand, his voice trembled and answered...

- Yes, he gave justice, but in order for adults to understand, is it necessary to multiply such angels? My child entered his father's dreams many times...

Traditional Uzbekistan

Uzbekistan is one of the oldest countries in world history and a country rich in many historical places and historical events. Uzbekistan consists of 12 regions and one autonomous republic and is currently one of the developing countries in every field. Now I want to tell about the most ancient and well-known places in Uzbekistan. My hometown is Surkhandarya region where is located in southern part of the country.

According to some facts, my hometown has a long-life history  which is located next to Amudarya and is the southernmost part of our country. Our nation is strong, brave and courageous, and also still the same. Even there are many stories and fairy tales about it. For example, there are our historical heroes Barchinoy and Alpomish, these people are symbols of bravery, loyalty and love. In addition, there are many historical places in my motherland, for example, 2000-year-old buildings and their remains are still available. The most important thing to say about our people is that they are very hardworking, open-minded, kind and simple-minded people compared to other regions of Uzbekistan. Our family consist of eight people, they are my grandparents, parents, three sisters and me. Elders in our country are wise, knowledgeable and experienced people. That is why, youngsters always respect and help them also ask some some advice for difficulties in their life. Every Muslim people in the world are aware of religious people in Central Asia, one of the most person Al-Hakim at-Termiziy lived in our country and his tomb is located in my hometown.

When it comes to my education. I am third course student in higher education where located in Samarkand. I think more people around the world know about this city, because here is most famous, historical and touristic location. Thousands of tourists visit this city in a year from verity parts of the world. Especially, Samarkand is  well-known for its historical places, mosques, and madrasahs such as Registon squere, Bibikhonim mosque, Guri Amir, Shkokhi Zinda and so on. Like all of  this places are releted to Middle Ages when Amir Timur and his generations lived. By the way, this city is a country where was the capital of Amir Temur’s country.

If I tell about higher education our country that it consists of four year for bachelor degree but for Master’s degree students study for two year. I study at Samarkand state institute of foreign languages, the faculty of English philology and translation studies. In the future I will be teacher and translator, because my major is to be translator or interpretor but my dad really wants me to be a teacher in higher education. So that I wil be both of them. In our institute there are more international teachers who are from USA, UK, Japan, Korea, Chine Turkey and so on. Therefore, our local teachers also have the same knowledge and practise. For example, all of teacher in our institute teach students with efficient methods and through modern high- digital technologies. Different holidays, compitations,conferences,camps and other meetings are held every month.

After graduating this institute I am going to study for Master’s degree abroad may be in the USA, UK or Turkey. I want to tell you about my parents, they are very kind, sincere, open-hearted, easy-going and my closest people in my life. I thank them for all the love they have shown and the opportunities they have created. In our country, it is very important to respect and honor parents. Because they grow you up by giving their everything. My dad and mum are the best people in the world. I clearly remember, I was in the 6th grade at secondary school, my father had to come from abroad, and I asked them to bring me a computer. I didn’t believe that he would bring it, but unexpectedly he gave me a new laptop of the latest model. I was very happy at that time. Because I was the only student in the class who had a personal computer. Also, they always emphasize that we should study and be good professionals. My sisters and I are always trying to make my parents’ dreams come true. I am very proud to be a child of such parents. 

Muhammed

Marnie had linked-in with Ellie and had developed a body suit with haptic feedback features. Ellie was able to render her lost daughter into real-time, similar to holographic girlfriend Joi—Ana de Armas, #KnivesOut—product belonging to the Nexus-9 Blade Runner KD6-3.7. Instructing Ellie to initiate Sareh, a holographic apparition. A digital avatar of Sareh was generated, magically, restored to virtual existence. #Ellie #shortfiction #interstellar #scifi …

Struck by this, Mia telepathically caused the quantum engine to levitate into the air, both hands spaced apart. Similar to teenage orphan and an avid Gunter, Wade Watts / avatar Parzival logged into the OASIS, except without the visor and haptic technology gloves. She had tilted and rotated the sphere like a Rubik’s Cube, visually, assessing the damage of PLUTO. The meteor orb, dubbed ATOM, was still fully functional, causing the working components to glow. #Marnie #shortfiction #scifi #nostelgia