NEW YEAR’S RESILIENCE

In the garden of grit, where shadows stretch,

Weary vines climbed through thorns of the past,  

Each task a tempest, each moment a wave,  

But beneath the storms, the roots clenched tighter.    

Wounds like constellations, pain etched in stardust,  

I tread softly on the stars of my battles,  

With a heart forged from fire, I rise,  

A phoenix unfurling wings against the horizon.    

I glance towards the edges of humanity,  

Where houses tremble like leaves in a gale,  

And children cradle hunger like a secret,  

While hope drips like honey from the skies.   

For I carry an ember, a spark of tomorrow,  

In the crucible of compassion, I harden my resolve,  

With the sun as my compass, I stride into dawn,  

Determined to dismantle the darkness with each step.    

Amidst the chaos, I gather the broken shards,  

Crafting a mosaic of dreams yet to bloom,  

The country of compassion calls me forth,  

And I answer with the drumbeat of courage in my chest.    

So let the New Year be a canvas unwritten,  

With colors of resilience, where challenges weave,  

An artist of hope, I paint my destiny,  

Knowing the dawn is only a heartbeat away.   

***

THESE DAYS OF CELEBRATION

I saw many of these festive days at the end of the year.

I saw bags weighing down hands,  

Decorations and lights that sparkled,  

And I saw the city like a bride adorned.  

I saw the sun and the moon descending to Earth,

Eyes and hearts of people igniting a rainbow,  

I saw embraces and kisses full of longing,  

Endless wishes that cannot be counted.  

I also saw the beggar’s hands like a cancer metastasis,

His statue frozen by the roadside of a noisy city,   

Eyes that remained a mist of rain of sadness,  

And his look of pain – a frost that freezes you.  

I hope that the coming New Year will see it,

And change the statue for a more beautiful one,  

To see also the indifferent, cold soul of people, 

And I wish to grant them a warmer heart.

THE TURNING OF THE PAGE

The year now fades, a closing book,

Of rushing streams and quiet corners.

We turn our heads to look behind,

At all the moments, sharp and kind.

So gather up the laughter’s chime,

The silent tears, the borrowed time.

Each thread is woven, dark and bright,

Into the fabric of the light.

We stand upon the threshold’s gleam,

And step into the newborn dream.

With lessons held and spirit worn,

We greet the coming, hopeful morn.

We Were Not Taught How to Hold the Future

They taught us dates

before they taught us consequences.

How empires fell,

but not how to catch ourselves

when hope slips on wet floors.

I grew up learning that history is past tense,

as if it doesn’t knock on our doors every morning

wearing our faces.

My country wakes up tired.

Even the sun hesitates before rising

as if asking,

are they ready today?

We are a generation fluent in survival.

We know how to laugh during blackouts,

how to fold dreams small enough

to fit into pockets with holes.

We know the price of bread

and the cost of silence.

Nobody warned us

that growing up would feel like translating pain

into productivity,

that resilience would become a compliment

used when repair is too expensive.

I write because talking fails me.

Because some truths are too heavy

for ordinary sentences.

Because poetry is the only place

I am allowed to be unsure

without being called weak.

They say the future belongs to us,

but they forgot to leave instructions.

So we improvise!

with borrowed courage,

with borrowed time,

with faith stitched together

by hands that are still shaking.

If this poem sounds unfinished,

it’s because we are.

Still becoming.

Still choosing softness

in a world that profits from our hardness.

We were not taught how to hold the future,

so we are learning

with open palms,

and hope that refuses to sit down.

The Soaring Eagle                                  

A flock of crows in dark disguise,

With jealous hearts and spiteful cries,

Ascend to claw the eagle’s flight

But falter in the blinding light.

They do not know how high he flies,

Nor see the wisdom in his eyes.

They grasp not purpose, strength, or grace

They only chase what they can’t face.

The eagle climbs in silent might,

Riding winds to endless height.

The crows grow tired, drop one by one,

Their foolish game is lost and done.

A noble soul, so pure and wide,

Will never drift with envy’s tide.

It walks alone, but walks with fire

On paths that reach forever higher.

You are the eagle, calm and wise,

Above the noise, above the lies.

You do not fight with birds below;

Your silence says what words can’t show.

No answer to their bitter breath,

No counter to their rage or death.

You rise instead beyond their call,

Where only quiet skies enthrall.

They shriek and flail, they mock and sneer,

But all dissolve when you draw near.

And with compassion, not with pride,

You watch them fall, and gently glide.

The sky is vast, the stars are few

Not all who flap can follow through.

So now I ask, with heart made true

Where do your wings carry you?

And where does your spirit settle into?

Poet Dr. Kang, Byeong-Cheol is a Korean author and poet, born in Jeju City, South Korea, in 1964. He began writing in 1993, publishing his first short story, “Song of Shuba,” at the age of twenty-nine. He released a collection of short stories in 2005 and has since won eight literature awards and published more than twelve books. From 2009 to 2014, he served as a member of The Writers in Prison Committee (WiPC) of PEN International. Additionally, he worked as an editorial writer for JeminIlbo, a newspaper in Jeju City, Korea. He holds a PhD in Political Science and currently serves as the Vice President of The Korean Institute for Peace and Cooperation and vice president of Jeju PEN. Moreover, he holds the position of founding President of the Korean Association of World Literature.

Wacky New Year to You!

Wham, bam, slam,

Right to the jaw,

Left to the gut,

Wild haymaker and

Bloody New Years nose,

            It’s Peru,

And fist fight catharsis

Clears the air

            For the next 365 days!

Somewhere in history,

Some anonymous genius

            Noticed seasons,

            The cycles of seasons,

And dubbed each

            A year—

 A measurement

            For our lives.

With that,

World-wide imagination

            Kicked in:

Old year, new year;

New year, future;

            New year, hope!

Tradition!

                        Party!

And so the Irish throw

            Bread against walls,

Ecuador burns scarecrows–

            And photos,

Japan smiles, ringing bells

            108 times.

The Swiss drop ice cream,

Thais throw water buckets,

The French eat pancakes,

Russians plant tree trunks

At the bottom

                        of frozen lakes.

Colombians lug

                        Empty suitcases,                

Brazilians jump seven waves,

Estonians eat seven meals,

While Danes hurl

                        Plates and pottery

            At friends’ front doors.

The Brits’ “First Footing”

Welcomes a dark-haired man

            Bearing midnight gifts,

Crazy Scots swing sticks

Stuck to blazing fireballs,

While in the Philippines,

            And Mexico,

All change underwear—

            White for peace,

            Gold for wealth,

Red, of course, for love

            In the new, new year!

Yet in America,

            We keep it simple:

Remember Dick Clark,

                        Watch a ball drop, Kiss.

Then sing Auld Lang Syne

            At the top of our lungs,

Raise many a cup o’ kindness,

Leave our undies

                        Publicly in place,

And have

                        A Happy New Year!

                        Bruce Roberts

            2015— New Years Eve

                                                                                                                        36                             

1. 风的家‖张天岳（毓秀小学）

风的家在田野里，

风一回家，

稻谷们就开心地左摇右摆。

风的家在森林里，

风一回家，

大树们就规规矩矩地鞠躬。

 1. The Wind’s Home ‖ Zhang Tianyue (Yuxiu Primary School)

The wind’s home is in the fields;

When the wind comes home,

The rice plants sway happily left and right.

The wind’s home is in the forest;

When the wind comes home,

The big trees bow politely one by one.

2. 夜深了‖辛婉怡（毓秀小学）

夜深了

大地也安静下来了

听，虫儿在唱歌

看，星星在眨眼

闻，花儿在暗暗飘香

夜深了

小宝贝听着歌谣

沉沉地睡去了

只留下妈妈

在台灯下织毛衣的身影

 2. Night Falls ‖ Xin Wanyi (Yuxiu Primary School)

Night falls,

The earth calms down too.

Listen, the insects are singing;

Look, the stars are blinking;

Smell, the flowers are quietly fragrant.

Night falls,

The little baby listens to lullabies,

Falls into a deep sleep.

Only Mom remains,

Her figure knitting sweaters by the desk lamp.

3. 梦想‖侯峻熙（毓秀小学）

梦想在世界跑来跑去

像奔跑的运动员

一路来来回回穿梭

一直到成功的尽头

 3. Dream ‖ Hou Junxi (Yuxiu Primary School)

Dreams run around the world,

Like running athletes,

Shuttling back and forth all the way,

Until the end of success.

4. 风弟弟‖侯峻熙（毓秀小学）

顽皮的风弟弟

吹倒了妈妈的花瓶

里面满满的幸福和温暖

都洒满了整个世界

 4. Little Brother Wind ‖ Hou Junxi (Yuxiu Primary School)

Naughty Little Brother Wind

Knocked over Mom’s vase.

The full happiness and warmth inside

Spilled all over the world.

5. 时间‖裴熙月（毓秀小学）

时间

是一只可爱的小白兔

它在岁月的长河里奔跑

我一回头

它已经跑远了

时间

是一列行驶的火车

我还没来得及看风景

它已经开到下一个站台

5. Time ‖ Pei Xiyue (Yuxiu Primary School)

Time

Is a cute little white rabbit.

It runs in the long river of years;

When I turn back,

It has already run far away.

Time

Is a moving train.

Before I can enjoy the scenery,

It has arrived at the next platform.

6. 星星的学校

河北省石家庄市藁城区贾市庄镇贯庄小学 吉柯冉 9岁

星星的学校

在月亮住的地方

他们有一群一群的伙伴

月亮老师有时教写字

有时教算数

有时教唱歌

他们拍拍小手放学了

太阳公公

把他们接回家

关上门做功课

 6. The Stars’ School

Ji Keran, 9, Guanzhuang Primary School, Jiashizhuang Town, Gaocheng District, Shijiazhuang City, Hebei Province

The stars’ school

is where the moon lives.

They have groups of friends.

Teacher Moon sometimes teaches writing,

sometimes math,

sometimes singing.

They clap their little hands and finish school.

Grandpa Sun

comes to take them home,

and they close the door to do their homework.

7. 翘起的头发

河北省石家庄市藁城区贾市庄镇贯庄小学 刘怡杉 9岁

头发和发圈吵架了

发圈一扎头发

头发就生气地跑开

生气了还不好哄

小嘴巴撅得高高的

 7. The Sticking-Up Hair

Liu Yishan, 9, Guanzhuang Primary School, Jiashizhuang Town, Gaocheng District, Shijiazhuang City, Hebei Province

Hair and the hair tie had a fight.

As soon as the hair tie tries to hold the hair,

the hair runs away in anger.

Once angry, it’s hard to soothe—

it pouts its little “mouth” high up.

8. 雪的朋友

河北省石家庄市藁城区贾市庄镇贯庄小学 张家行 9岁

雪和北风

是一对好朋友

雪一下

风就吹

他们飘来飘去

闹着玩

小朋友也是

雪的好朋友

雪一下

小朋友就笑

打雪仗

堆雪人

扔雪球

 8. Snow’s Friends

Zhang Jiaxing, 9, Guanzhuang Primary School, Jiashizhuang Town, Gaocheng District, Shijiazhuang City, Hebei Province

Snow and the north wind

are good friends.

When snow falls,

the wind blows.

They drift around,

playing tricks.

Children are also

snow’s good friends.

When snow falls,

children laugh,

having snowball fights,

building snowmen,

throwing snowballs.

9. 小草的学校

河北省石家庄市藁城区贾市庄镇贯庄小学 薛若彤 9岁

春天教小草们长高

淋几滴春雨

他们长得更高了

春风走过

小草们开始跳舞、狂欢

春天老师躲在天空的云朵上

看着他们上自习

 9. The Grass’s School

Xue Ruotong, 9, Guanzhuang Primary School, Jiashizhuang Town, Gaocheng District, Shijiazhuang City, Hebei Province

Spring teaches the grass to grow tall.

A few drops of spring rain,

and they grow even taller.

When the spring wind passes by,

the grass starts dancing and celebrating wildly.

Teacher Spring hides in the clouds in the sky,

watching them study on their own.

10. 春天的闹钟

河北省石家庄市藁城区贾市庄镇贯庄小学 薛家硕 9岁

春天来了

我还在梦中

美丽的花悄悄地开了

小蜜蜂飞到花上

用它的小手拨弄着花钟

滴答滴答

我被春天的闹钟吵醒了

 10. Spring’s Alarm Clock

Xue Jiashuo, 9, Guanzhuang Primary School, Jiashizhuang Town, Gaocheng District, Shijiazhuang City, Hebei Province

Spring has come,

but I’m still in my dream.

Beautiful flowers bloom quietly.

Little bees fly to the flowers,

tinkering with the flower clocks with their little hands.

Tick-tock, tick-tock—

I’m woken up by spring’s alarm clock.

11. 棉花糖

河北省石家庄市藁城区贾市庄镇贯庄小学 裴晨宇 9岁

冬天在吆喝

棉花糖，棉花糖

我跑出去

舔了一大口

凉凉的棉花糖在胃里

甜甜地抱住我

11. Cotton Candy

Pei Chenyu, 9, Guanzhuang Primary School, Jiashizhuang Town, Gaocheng District, Shijiazhuang City, Hebei Province

Winter is shouting,

“Cotton candy! Cotton candy!”

I run outside

and take a big lick.

The cold cotton candy is in my stomach,

hugging me sweetly.

12. 云朵

河北省石家庄市藁城区贾市庄镇贯庄小学 李忆佳 9岁

云朵伤心了

哗哗哗

眼泪直掉

太阳跑出来安慰它

给它变出一个彩虹

云朵开心地笑了

12. Clouds

Li Yijia, 9, Guanzhuang Primary School, Jiashizhuang Town, Gaocheng District, Shijiazhuang City, Hebei Province

The cloud is sad—

whoosh, whoosh, whoosh,

tears keep falling.

The sun runs out to comfort it,

making a rainbow for it.

The cloud smiles happily.

You Are Not on a Doomed Ship

We humans encounter different problems every single day. Sometimes these problems last long, and sometimes they pass as quickly as opening and closing our eyes. At times, they weigh heavily on our souls, bend our backs, wound our hearts, and remain carved into the pages of our memory. When unfulfilled dreams press on your chest and things don’t work out despite all your efforts—don’t fall into despair. You are not on the Titanic. Your life continues, and you are still alive.

The people who boarded the Titanic had everything—wealth, possessions—but they lacked one thing: luck. Look, you are the lucky one. You can stand up again; you can try again. Because just as the moonlight you see during the tahajjud prayer soon gives way to the dawn prayer, and then to the warm golden rays of the rising sun, every problem finds its solution in its own time. No effort goes without a result—every action brings a consequence.

Never forget this: you are the lucky one who didn’t get on the doomed ship. That means you still have plenty of reasons and goals to live for. Life is colorful—don’t see it only in black and white. Hold on to the wings of hope. Praise your Lord, because out of 8 billion people, He chose you for this test. Then you will see what true victory really means.

What matters is that you do not let your spirit drown. Just as you clean the dust in your home, cleanse your soul from sorrow. Wipe your tears, stand up, and keep trying again and again. Because you—and only you—have the power to change your own life. Don’t listen to the noise around you; people’s words will never stop anyway.

I know—sometimes you feel like you don’t fit in this world at all. Tears fill your eyes, you want to give up on everything, leave everyone, and run away to a quiet, secluded place.

My dear, who is precious to me, these problems may seem endless to you. Surely, at some point, you expected comfort or help from someone. Maybe you waited for a person who would tell you, “Everything will be okay” on your hardest day. If you are reading my words now, believe me: not receiving comfort on your hard day was actually a blessing for you. Step out of the desert of despair.

Every step you walked alone—didn’t it make you stronger and more determined? When you fell, didn’t you lift your head and rise on your own without anyone’s help? You may not realize it, but I know that people around you admire you.

When nothing seems to work and your strength is fading, remember my words: “Helplessness is the greatest test sent by God.” And that means victory is near. Don’t rebel. Wipe away those pearl-like tears. One day, those tears will fall not for defeat, but for happiness, my dear.

The important thing is not to remain where you fell. Fulfill the dreams hidden in your heart—don’t let them turn into regrets. My dear, the person who knows you better than anyone… is you..

Xasanova Aziza Kumushbek qizi, student at Tashkent Economics and Pedagogy University

Dr. Reda Abdel Rahim 

Inspector of Egyptian antiquities at the Ministry of Tourism and Antiquities

Interview conducted by Eva Petropoulou Lianou 

Good morning Doctor. It will be an honour to have you in our magazine.

Could you please tell us about yourself?

I work as an inspector of Egyptian antiquities at the Ministry of Tourism and Antiquities. I write critical articles in the fields of fiction and theater. I have published five books. Five new books will be published soon.

When did archaeology come to life for you? What inspired you?

Archaeology is the science of searching for the roots of man, just as myth was the childhood of history. The knowledge of how ancient man lived shows us how mankind has evolved over successive eras. He who has no past has no future.

What was the most important moment for you?

The most important moment in my life was the discovery of tombs of senior officials from the 21st dynasty in the archaeological area of Saqqara with the Tasik expedition headed by Czech Egyptologist Jaroslav Barta in 2008. My visit was also accompanied by an exhibition of the effects of pyramid builders in Tokyo 2015, one of the most beautiful moments in my life as well.

Why should people visit the museum?

Museums are houses of memory ..If you want to know the history of a whole civilization that was as important as the Egyptian Kings,  you should visit the museum, but if you want to know its present, you should definitely visit this country.

What is your wish for 2026?

I hope that in 2026 I will travel, work and live in Greece. The state and the people are psychologically and socially closer to the Egyptian people.