Επιμέλεια: Εύα Πετροπούλου Λιανού
BIO: ZDENKO ĆURKOVIĆ was born on August 21, 1960 in the place of Pasič, municipality of Duvno (Tomislavgrad), Bosnia and Herzegovina. He lives and works in the Republic of Croatia. He graduated from the Faculty of Economics.
He published collections of poems: “Fish swim in the mouth”, BiH in 1985 and “Caries of Time”, USA in 2022. His poetry is represented in many international collections, as well as in several world anthologies of poetry (“Compasion save the world”, USA 2021, “Anthology of a thousand poets of the candle of hope”, Tunisia 2021, “Peacemakers”, India 2021, “Midnight in the garden of Peace”, Italy 2022, “Consciousness & Transformation” Mexico 2022, “Transformation of Consciousness and Art”, Mexico 2023, “Cosmic Voice”, Nigeria 2023, “HYPERPOEM”, Russia 2023, …). He published and continues to publish in literary and other magazines – printed and electronic (“Ekos”, “Glas”, “Putevi” , “Život”, “Petruška nastamba”, “Exilio.mx”, “Magazin Prodigy”, …), and literary portals and Facebook.
He is a member of the literary association “Kultura snova” Zagreb and many international literary groups. In addition to poetry, he writes prose, critical reviews and aphorisms. His poetry has been translated into English, Spanish, Chinese and Macedonian.
He is the winner of numerous domestic, regional and international awards for poetry. He is the holder of the prestigious awards: “Pablo Neruda”, the highest world recognition of the Ibero-American Prize for International Poetry for the Culture, Art and Heritage of Latin America and the “Grand Cross of the Order of Cultural and Literary Independence” of Maria Rosa Parra”, Colombia 2022, World Prize Rahim Karim”, Kyrgyzstan 2022, “Medal of the Cultural Star of Pacific Literature” and “National Award for Poetry and Literature of America”, Colombia 2023. His honorary titles are: “Ambassador of Peace”, “Ambassador of Culture and Arts” and “Doctor of Peace and Humanity “.
POEMS
CARIES OF TIME
I mean through the keyhole,
with my tongue
I lubricating the rusty lock.
The key is in my nose,
I can smell the quince.
I’m entering into the brain,
from the cell to the cell I slide,
and here I am in the closet
which was eaten by worms,
the boy is still play carefree, and I…?
I’m not even a tooth of time –
caries only!
KEY
Bravo maestro…, bravissimo…!
Mozart – an Austrian miracle, keeps the treasure on the other side of the border,
on this side the sheep bleat…, the cows torment… across the ploughland.
The key is in the violin…, in the violin is the key…. !!
Bravo maestro…, bravissimo … !
Master of all masters – a miracle of the people, on this side of the lock,
muses cattle no matter what tooth she had – sheep, goats, cows .
The key is in the piano…, the key is in the piano…. !!
PEN OR SWORD
“To be or not to be” – pen or sword –
a question as old as the universe.
With a stroke of a sword, the stars have been won,
filled with millions of beheaded souls –
celestial fireflies
Sword is as old as the history of inhuman civilization.
Without remorse: carrying millions of shooting stars on its conscience,
grabbling in the dark for all eternity.
With a stroke of a pen swords have fallen,
because a pen is also sharp, and heavy, and poisonous as lead,
and old… as old as the history of human civilization.
“To be or not to be” – pen or sword?
LIGHT
Dust …
It maps stress,
like a brush
on a picture and on a frame,
spills …
black color on us.
Ash…
sows stress and fear,
and lurking opportunity,
embrace the eternal temple.
With goose feather …
we measure breath,
in the Light we cry out for salvation,
death shock… aaah…, …
like a knife we put back in the scabbard,
and while the holy water sprinkles us,
framed image – is our face.
STAR
In the depths of my blue – peace,
pure as a tear, as a child’s soul,
I hear him, the cricket is still playing,
rubble and stones; zvizdan fry – drought.
In the vastness of my universe,
pure as the Blessed Virgin Mary,
the grandfathers of my stars are burning – the candle of peace,
And it will burn, as long as my sun shines.
In the wastelands of my star battle,
pure as the source of life, as spring water,
my mother’s star is burning – a candle of serenity,
And it will burn, as long as my moon walks.
In the bliss of my heavenly infinity,
pure as pure gold weaves light,
my father’s star is burning – the candle of calm,
And it will burn, as long as my star shines.
