Poem by Eva Lianou Petropoulou

Song, music, orchestration and production by Dino Kalyvas

Lyrics

«I found you

Because you were hurt

I cherished you

As I felt your pain

I love you and

I cover your wounds

With silver

So, you will shine

You will shine

You will never break again

I will create a bridge for all the hurt people

I will build golden pillars

Nobody will hurt again children or women

As the diamonds

They will shine

We will Rise

And we will be reborn in a future peaceful world»

“The song “Golden bridges” is my next musical step. It is not a large musical play or cycle of songs or arias with many musical innovations, effects, vocal parts, etc., but just a song with a few jazz colors where the piano dominates. However, although just a song, I consider it very important since this is an “anthem” for people with disabilities and special needs. It is also dedicated to all para-athletes.

Reading carefully the poem of dear Mrs. Eva Lianou Petropoulou, you could see the love and warmth that our society must provide for people with disabilities and special needs, and for every other suffering fellow human being. As units of our society, if we want to claim a better world, more justly and more beautiful, if we want to be included in the “Kingdom of Heaven”, we must walk the path of Love and giving to our fellow man. We must carry on our backs the misery and pain of the other people beside us. Also, let’s try with all our strength to have no more wars!”

—————————————————————

ΧΡΥΣΕΣ ΓΕΦΥΡΕΣ – ΔΕΛΤΙΟ ΤΥΠΟΥ

Αγγλικό ποίημα της Εύας Λιανού Πετροπούλου

Ερμηνεία, μουσική, ενορχήστρωση και παραγωγή : Ντίνος Καλύβας

(Στίχοι σε ελεύθερη μετάφραση στα Ελληνικά από τον συνθέτη)

«Σε βρήκα μιας και ήσουν πληγωμένος

Σε φρόντισα μιας κι αισθανόμουν τον πόνο σου

Σε αγαπώ και καλύπτω τις πληγές σου με ασήμι

Έτσι λοιπόν θα λάμψεις

Ναι θα λάμψεις και δεν θα γίνεις κομμάτια ποτέ ξανά

Θα φτιάξω μια χρυσή γέφυρα για κάθε πληγωμένο άνθρωπο

Θα την χτίσω με χρυσά μεγάλα τούβλα

Δεν πρόκειται να πληγωθεί ξανά ποτέ παιδί ή γυναίκα

Κι όπως τα διαμάντια

Όλα θα λάμψουν

Κι εμείς αναστημένοι (πνευματικά και ψυχικά)

Θα ξαναγεννηθούμε σε έναν μελλοντικό ειρηνικό κόσμο»

Οι «χρυσές γέφυρες» αποτελούν το επόμενο μουσικό βήμα μου. Δεν είναι κάποιο ολοκληρωμένο μεγάλο έργο ή κύκλος τραγουδιών ή αριών με πολλές μουσικές καινοτομίες, εφέ, φωνητικά μέρη κλπ, παρά ένα λιτό τραγούδι με λίγες Τζαζ αποχρώσεις όπου κυριαρχεί το πιάνο. Ωστόσο αν και μικρό, το θεωρώ πολύ σημαντικό μιας και το παρόν αποτελεί «ύμνο» για τα άτομα με αναπηρίες και ειδικές ανάγκες.

 Είναι επίσης αφιερωμένο στους αθλητές με αναπηρίες.

Πίσω από τους λιγοστούς στίχους της αγαπητής κυρίας Εύας Λιανού Πετροπούλου, αναδύεται η αγάπη και η θαλπωρή που πρέπει να παρέχει η κοινωνία μας σε αυτά τα άτομα αλλά κι όλους τους πονεμένους συνανθρώπους μας. 

Αλλά κι εμείς ως μονάδες της κοινωνίας μας, αν θέλουμε να διεκδικήσουμε έναν καλύτερο κόσμο, δικαιότερο κι ομορφότερο, αν θέλουμε να διεκδικήσουμε την «Βασιλεία των Ουρανών» , πρέπει να βαδίσουμε το δρόμο της Αγάπης και της προσφοράς προς τον συνάνθρωπο. Πρέπει να συμμεριστούμε τη δυστυχία και τον πόνο του διπλανού μας . 

Επίσης, να προσπαθήσουμε με όλες μας τις δυνάμεις να μην υπάρχουν πια πόλεμοι!

Μετά Τιμής

Ντίνος Καλύβας 

Poem in Which an Eclipse Passes, but You Still Don’t Love Me

That day, I watch two dancing fish

in our campus garden’s pond. I call

the pale one Moon and red one Sun

and imagine they are us.

Empty-bellied, light-deprived,

Moon brushes Sun’s face with their tail

until the dance stops.

Moon swims away,

alone.

That’s how I know Moon is me—

queer fish in a straight pond—

and you are just another Sun.

That day, you watch the real eclipse

somewhere else on campus,

staying far from my orbit.

I sit with the fish and plead:

Can we at least love each other

in Eclipse Time?

That transient, mystical minute when

moon and sun can embrace?

But the moon strays from the sun again,

and you don’t come to dance with me.

We are still who we are, and

even an eclipse can’t change us.

Sea in Me

“But [my love] is all as hungry as the sea,

And can digest as much.”

—Twelfth Night

What’s inside me isn’t sad.

It leaks not just from my eyes.

It’s soaked my insides all

this time. Those who’ve waded by

never dared to dive

into the depths of

desperation

gurgling in my guts.

But you have whetted the sea

in me: waters I swallowed

for so long.

Ink in your hair has

dissolved in my skin.

Now my body aches to regurgitate

you in floods of liquid love

I’ve never shared on paper.

You see them in their sea-green glory:

saliva-waves of love,

acid-waves of love,

sweat-waves of love,

milk-waves of love,

blood-waves of love!

You baptize yourself in it all.

I will let it lap you up.

Ollie Sikes (they/them) is a young queer writer based in Dallas, TX. They hold a double BA in Creative Writing and Theatre from Butler University. Currently, they’re interning with Copper Canyon Press and EJL Editing and serving as Editorial Assistant for Broad Ripple Review. Though they were published multiple times in Butler’s undergrad lit mag, this would be their first professional publication.

Here is another day without you,

This sick heart is punished by the Hijran.

A dark night that cannot be matched by my heart,

The spaces left by the stars.

Here is another day without you,

My eyes are fluttering, clinging to the river.

I am still waiting because I miss you,

Come and see the pain in my heart.

Here is another day without you,

Today is passing, and tomorrow will pass.

Years may pass,

Your pictures are always on my page.

Here is another day without you,

Trust me, no one is waiting for you like me.

This is not difficult to wait for,

For my patience,

Maybe my absence from you will never end.

Here is another day without you,

Tell me how can I comfort this heart?

My longing cries are so sad,

My life is now so sad.

Introduction

Linguistics, as one of the most important fields of human thought, culture, and social life, studies language phenomena both theoretically and practically. In the 21st century, the rapid development of science and technology, globalization, and the growth of information flows place new challenges before linguistics. Therefore, among the current issues of modern linguistics, the development of national languages, terminology, language teaching (linguodidactics), translation studies, computational linguistics, and sociolinguistics occupy a special place.

Main Part

1. Development of the National Language

The national language plays a central role in the cultural and spiritual life of society. Developing the language based on literary norms and ensuring its full use in public administration, education, and science is one of the most urgent tasks of linguistics.

2. Terminology and New Terms

Scientific and technical progress constantly introduces new concepts. It is important to create consistent and nationally appropriate terms in Uzbek to express these concepts and to form a unified system of terminology.

3. Linguodidactics and Education

The process of teaching language requires the use of new methods, digital resources, and interactive approaches. In particular, teaching Uzbek effectively to foreigners is among today’s pressing issues.

4. The Importance of Translation Studies

High-quality translation of the cultural and scientific heritage of other nations into Uzbek, as well as the translation of our national literature into other languages, strengthens cultural ties. It is essential to preserve semantic accuracy and national identity in the process of translation.

5. Computational Linguistics

Modern technologies have given rise to a new field in linguistics. Developing an electronic corpus of the Uzbek language, creating automatic translation programs, speech recognition systems, and artificial intelligence–based projects are among the most important current tasks.

6. Sociolinguistics and Speech Culture

Language and society are closely interconnected. Issues such as innovations in youth speech, the influence of internet language, and the relationship between dialects and the literary language are at the center of sociolinguistic research. At the same time, it is necessary to promote speech culture and adherence to literary norms.

Conclusion

In conclusion, the current issues of linguistics are directly linked to the development of modern society. Developing the national language, improving terminology, advancing translation studies, enriching language teaching methods, developing computational linguistics, and addressing sociolinguistic challenges are the main tasks facing linguistics today. Preserving and developing language in accordance with the demands of the time serves as a strong foundation for the future of the nation.

Sobirova Samiya Muhammadjon qizi was born on May 1, 2001, in Baliqchi district, Andijan region. She completed her studies at Secondary School No. 50 in the district and later graduated from Namangan State University with a degree in Uzbek language. During her student years, she was an active participant in the “Zakovat Intellectual Club.” Together with her team, she took part in various events and achieved honorary places.

Currently, she works as a teacher of the Uzbek language and literature at Secondary School No. 86 in Yangi Namangan district, Namangan region. Since childhood, Samiya has had a deep interest in Uzbek and Turkish literature. For this reason, she also mastered the Turkish language and earned a certificate. Her ultimate goal is to become a highly qualified specialist in her profession and to share the valuable knowledge she has acquired with future generations.

The Metamorphosis of Dreams

I gather the faces of people,
in the treasure of folly,
engraving upon my poor dress
a song, a silent prayer.
I add colors to creation,
to weave a metamorphosis,
one after another,
echoing the depths of happiness.
I am your dream,
O people of reason,
a condition veiled in wonder,
eyes gazing towards tomorrow.
The streets are empty,
hearts outstretched,
trodden by the weight
of silent doubt.
I adapt to grandeur,
inhabiting an incapacity,
visible to all,
my nakedness, my fragility.
My feet are nailed
to the pavement’s face,
showcases of sorrow,
where hope feels faint.
Sometimes it sighs,
and sometimes it softens,
your dream, O people of words,
is sweeter, but often forgotten.
For I am the one who wanders,
or do people wander with me?
A dervish in a circle,
lost in a memory.
I emerge, my soul pours forth,
between its lines, the strings
of longing for the sanctuary’s robe,
and the blessings that true love brings.
They slept upon the shoulders of time,
testimony of interwoven moments,
signs of exchange,
a miracle yet to be found.
***

A Martyr
Sign me up, right here,
To a womb that defies history’s commute.
Inscribe my name.
Never did I nurse from the breasts of women in a slave market.
I could not trust mystics,
Nor did their bells ring recognition in my heart.
A million fears
My fears, multiplied a millionfold,
When I find death staring into my life,
When I see coffins stacked,
Black as the tears of rain.
May God grant you a long life,
To console homes filled with sorrow—
The bodies of the martyrs,
Whose lives gifted you freedom.
Beside the widows and orphans,
Gallows craft your dreams,
Selling your heart on the very first road.
Be a martyr.
***
A frame to image painful
Sorrows planted deep inside hearts,
Awakening seeds of fear,
With horror facts concealed and capped.
Dressed in the wear of silence,
The sorrows of the day were sown—
A sign upon a grave, a dub
To the slow death of man, unknown.
Silence is no picture of them,
Without a paint, it’s stark and grim.
Accepted: you die anonymous,
Though in your truth, you live a dream.
Though your heart in desert carries home,
Though your age was right for your own land,
Accepted: you die anonymous,
Like Zia’s glory, a vanishing strand.
When such a spirit’s light extinguishes,
And disappears, a beautiful dream ends,
Accepted: you die anonymous.
Too, houses died, their doors against walls bend.
Her streets, they mourned; the night came, withered,
Leaving a body, chronically loved,
A shiny star, whose songs no longer tethered
To the moon, now silently removed.
Rumored, the last beats from your heart,
You felt and then announced absence.
Faces passed like dreams, printed apart
On the plate-blooded board of lost essence.
Regrets the eye which saw of leaving
At mystery. It was not inspiring—
A frame to image aching, ever grieving.

***
Probability

The wheat stalks breathe you in,
Braid your letters for the evenings.
And stir your songs the day they met
Upon his face, the silence… the flock of stillness.
Depart to where we began our journey,
Indeed, the streams hold but fragments.
To a time squandered,
Forgive my death when I choose you,
To the mercy of the devout, in protest,
To the dwelling of the wound,
The distance of desolation.
And your endurance was to borrow
From the star, the day of collapse’s rituals.
Within you, the debasement of poems eludes,
Towards the sunrise.
And you quiet above some plains
The languages of apprehension,
In your sailing times.
You soothe the blaze of solitude… cities,
And pour into the eye the tears of reunion,
Branches from the beginning we were,
For the land of severance.
We carry to it the beseeching letters,
To write in love,
The beloved’s spinning song.
And you still swear by the earthquake,
So as to prepare a new homeland,
Which the questions lost in their lament,
And the impossible bolted its gates
With bursts of time that began to depart.
You never left the harvests of remembrance,
That we were quenching.
With your silence, visions will not overflow
The boundaries of emptiness.
And we…
Are in vain.

***

The child residing deep inside me

The child residing deep inside me,
When fear ignites, blazes with delight,
Shattering every frame,
Out into the street, he openly proclaims
His right to taste a morsel of truth.
With utter innocence, he’d plead with the sun’s rays,
As they arrived to confiscate tomorrow’s darkness.
He never knew that the morrow,
Lying slain on the heart’s threshold,
Was already sacrificed.
The child residing deep inside me,
Quietly gathers fragments from the shadow
Of the girl fallen from the window of desire.
He passes from beneath the navel,
To the furthest lip at the edge of the house,
Retreating to the corner, at the furthest bank,
And in the dark rooms, he rattles
Matchboxes.
The child residing deep inside me,
Has but one hand,
With it, he gathers the world before him,
Drawing it in clusters.
And within his notebook of dreams,
He scribbles, then redraws.
The child residing deep inside me,
Is inherently stubborn.
He demolishes every dream in an instant,
The moment he awakens
To a new dawn.

Abdel Latif Mubarak, also known by his Arabic name عبد اللطيف مبارك, is an Egyptian poet and lyricist born in 1964 in Suez . He is widely recognized as one of the most important poets of the 1980s. His poems have been published in numerous literary journals in Egypt and the Arab world, including Arab Magazine, Kuwait Magazine, News Literature, Republic Newspaper, AI-Ahram, and The New Publishing Culture . ^[ 1 ]

Abdel Latif Mubarak’s fame rests on his distinctive poetic style, which skillfully combines the beauty of words with profound reflection on aspects of life and humanity. His verses are imbued with sensitivity, emotion, and a profound understanding of the human condition.

Over the years, Mubarak has received numerous awards and accolades for his work. In 2014, he was honored with the Arab Media Union’s Shield of Excellence and Creativity, recognizing his significant impact on poetry and literature. In 2021, he also won the prestigious East Academy Shield of Excellence and Creativity, a testament to his continued perseverance and dedication to his craft.

Food Poisoning

He has a solid case

Of food positioning

And he hates this 

So much

The only bright spot

Is that the bad stuff started

When he was 

In his hotel room.

Taylor Dibbert is a poet in Washington, DC. He’s author of, most recently, “On the Rocks.”

Self-Doubt

Thoughts may turn against themselves

They wont let me be

Self doubt fills 

This endless sea.

This whole scenery

May be a picture

Right in front of me.

When I can look past this

picture of 

A false scene

I’ll know that

I am now free

My captor knows that I have fled

And they have set

A trap for me.

When I return

To the woods

Self Doubt lays in wait for me

They’ll rope me up and lead me down

to a grand old tree

With a grand old hanging

Just for me.