Ελληνική υπογραφή στο Hollywood από τις Duo Z (Zoe Tiganouria & Zizi Bologna) είναι γεγονός!
Στις 3 Μαΐου κυκλοφορεί το soundtrack της πολυβραβευμένης ταινίας "Forbidden Tango"
Σάββατο 3 Μαΐου 2025
ΑΓΓΈΛΑ ΚΏΣΤΑ " ΣΚΌΝΗ ΣΤΗΝ ΑΥΛΑΊΑ ΤΗΣ ΖΩΉΣ." (ANGELA KOSTA "PLUHUR NË SIPARIN E JETËS".)
Ahmad Al-Qaisi Poetry
Ahmed Al quasi
My Morning Conversation..!
Oh morning, my friend...
Good morning to you, and to all the beautiful things around us.
To you who returned after a long, dark night,
Good morning, my morning,
To the places where we laughed so much,
To every spot we visited,
To every café and every coffee cup,
And to every heart that carries purity in its soul — just like you, my friend.
Reach out your hand to mine —
One hand cannot clap alone,
But it invites you to enjoy a cup of coffee from my hand.
Let’s share stories and memories we once lived together
As we sip the warmth of morning coffee.
For in coffee, beauty shines just as you do.
My friend,
Good morning to you,
You and coffee remain my dearest companions.
You are the essence of nature and its comforter —
Without you, nature would not be as we desire.
And coffee — the icon of morning and the queen of warmth —
Lifts us from the ecstasy of dreams and thoughts
Into a world where we discover something new with your arrival.
You gather us,
And collect what scattered from us in the vastness of space.
My beautiful friend,
You steal your light from the sun,
You are the hope that erases the heart’s pain and burdens.
Let your morning breeze speak of the beauty of your soul,
So our morning may be filled with goodness and hope.
You are the garden of love that grants happiness and safety.
In you, souls are renewed with every creation.
Do you know your worth to me and to humanity?
You, the light-hearted visitor —
You are that morning, unchanged!
Yet every day,
You come to us with a new face,
Radiant, smiling, and more beautiful and elegant than before.
Because you are the morning,
You are the one from whom people draw their beauty.
Every day I greet you —
May God bless your morning with joy.
Know that I am with you, wherever you are.
Every day I thank God,
And I remember Him more,
So I may find happiness,
And so may you —
That your soul may find peace.
Good morning, my friend.
You are the rose and its fragrance.
These are soft and tender words I greet you with —
For they are lovely and kind.
Every night before I sleep, and at dawn,
I ask my Lord:
Will the morning visit me today?
Will a cup of coffee bring us together once more?
I send my peace and greetings to it with the scent of roses.
In the morning,
I search for my things,
My wishes,
And for someone beautiful like you,
Oh my morning... my friend.
Do you know, you who brighten the face of the day?
I am a person who seeks peace of mind and respect
With someone who values life, love, and kind connection.
Because, honestly,
I am just like you — light-spirited,
Careful, precise, clean, elegant, and organized.
I dislike chaos.
I’m looking for a woman who is beautiful, gentle, generous,
Someone with presence and personality —
A woman with pride, nobility, and radiance.
I wish to build this relationship
On mutual respect and trust between us, in love.
Would you accept me as a friend and a beloved?
That is who I am,
My beautiful friend...
Oh morning.
Written by: Dr. Ahmad Al-Qaisi
Παρασκευή 2 Μαΐου 2025
ΛΕΥΤΕΡΗΣ ΣΙΩΜΟΣ "ΤΑ ΜΥΣΤΙΚΑ ΤΗΣ ΒΡΟΧΗΣ"
Σε ρυθμό μουσικής πέφτει η βροχή
Από καιρό την καρτερούσα
Σαν κλωνάρι της χλόης στη γη
Ισχνό, χλωμό ,να ξεδιψούσα .
Οι στάλες σε χορωδία τραγουδούν
Κουτσομπολιό ο άνεμος πιάνει
Οι ομίχλες συνομοτούν
Η μπόρα πλένει σκόνες στο τζάμι.
Βροχή, σαν το δικό σου φιλί
Της χαραυγής, το νέο της φρούτο
Η γη εσύ κι' εγώ ή βροχή
Διόνυμο στου έρωτα τον πλούτο.
Αράζω και κοιταζω σιωπηλά
Τη στάλα, νερομάνας χτίστη
Ξέρει ωκεανών τα μυστικά
Ποτίζει αιώνια αναμνήσεις.
Ρανίδα μου εσύ και τρυφερή
Σμιλεύεις , σκάβεις και την πέτρα
Σαν τ' αγνό δάκρυ που συγκινεί
Στου πόνου και της χαράς τον αγέρα.
Με πρόδωσε μια τρελή στάλα βροχής
Της είπα κάποια μυστικά σου
Πια κάθε μπόρα και νεροποντή
Λέει συνέχεια το όνομα σου .
Λευτέρης Σιώμος Κ /107δ.π.ελ.
Η φωτογραφία δημιουργήθηκε με ΑΙ
Poems and Paintings of Anna Keiko
The Stream
—My Silly Girl
*By Anna Keiko
Laugh, my silly girl,
No one witnesses your wildflower growth.
The flowing spring, your lover,
Chases you from sky to ravine, flooding the islands of your heart,
Taking mountain peaks without measure from the river’s hands—
Formless, a face in motion.
How beautiful! Who says the Danube or Nile surpasses you?
Who has ever seen your source?
Now you come, enchanting in your quietude,
As if untouched by Verlaine and Rimbaud’s quarrels.
You know no affectation, lost in Chopin’s rhythms.
That boy, wiser and braver than Odysseus,
Born from the moon’s belly—you wait.
Yes, against his chest hangs a stone more precious than "Precious Jade,"
Fertile in water, birthing beauty.
But listen, my dear mortal, beware temptation’s curse—
Nuwa and Jesus, frauds of grand deceit.
Who, in joy, sowed the sperm and egg of human sorrow?
Endless disasters,
Embryos enduring sun and storm,
Lashed by time, toyed with by so-called fate.
All sin belongs to love, to you,
To places the sun never touches.
Only this clear night brings tender solace,
Carrying dew from your hair into your gaze.
I clutch the pine’s hand, a relic of childhood.
I refuse—refuse the sky-blue allure of day,
As noon slips silently through flame.
Those who claim to merge with the cosmos—
Their every breath begets suffering.
Mud ribs, ape bones—each a lie. Truth?
Names scribbled in thin notebooks
Will rot with the earth, battered by seasons.
Little stream, source of my life, my blood and breath,
Restore the world’s innate fragrance,
Return true tears to the rain, so she no longer gasps
Like a fish on land, reliving faceless pasts.
..............
Everything Crumbles
By AnnaKeiko
Night cannot grasp the soul—oppressed organs
Like roses pounding a vase: *Let me out!*
Screams shatter the quiet of midnight.
When will the churning clamor let daylight rest?
Escaping death’s lanterns, we wait for night’s tenderness.
The room hugs its own shadow, lonely.
Love, stabbed, writhes on the floor—
Pain takes a group photo with hypocrisy.
You walk past, skirt the horizon, then turn—your gaze terrifies me.
Crimson mountains loom like an endless ship
Ferrying dead days.
Sweet white light records lovers lost to sleep.
Only she still weaves swan-song dreams.
Spring has no birds, no love,
No grass or trees’ green, no home where forest songs nest.
Everything perishes in every rushing moment—
Yet windows and every wrinkle bear rivers on their backs,
Dug by you. How cruel!
You steal my fair forehead and my hidden garden.
You fear sails descending from silver skies,
Feet you cannot catch or keep.
Yes, you are great—
Irreplicably great, stirring laughter and tears.
Sleepwalkers drive mankind forward. *Onward!*
After winter, no more death, no more—
Yet all is reborn on spring’s wanton branches.
They manufacture sorrow. Streams murmur.
The river of life forces you to confess:
*Nothing truly dies. It lives forever—*
White funeral notes rising from the air.
Ah, wicked wind sweeps the hollow woods,
Forcing kisses on my dreaming self.
Those scarlet lips will tear through self-spun webs
To reclaim this ignoble past.
Poems and Paintings by Anna Keiko
Poem of Taghrid BouMerhi (Brazil Lebanon )
الرحلةُ إلى الداخل
تغريد بو مرعي - لبنان - البرازيل
الظلُّ الذي سبقَ ظلّه
توقف أمام قطار الزمن
فرأى
أنّ العابرين لا يحملون وجوههم،
وأنّ الخطى لا تترك أثراً إلا في الذاكرة.
تأمّل ذاته المنفلتة من زمنٍ لم يكتبه،
كان يعلم أن الماضي لا يعود،
لكنّه لم يكن يدرك أن الحنين
هو شكل آخر للوقوف في محطة لا تصلها القطارات.
سأله الزمن:
"لماذا تسبقكَ، أيّها الظل؟"
فأجاب بصوتٍ لا يسمعه إلا من فقد صوته:
"لأنني أدركت أنَّ الضوء يتأخر أحياناً،
وأنَّ الحقيقة ليست فيما نراه،
بل فيما يُحجب عنا."
وحين عاد القطار ليعبر من جديد،
لم يتحرك...
لأنّه علم أن بعض الرحلات
لا تكون نحو الأمام،
بل نحو الداخل.
THE JOURNEY WITHIN
The shadow that preceded its own
Stopped before the train of time,
And saw
That the passersby carried no faces,
And that footsteps leave no trace—except in memory.
He contemplated his self, escaping from a time he never wrote,
He knew the past never returns,
But he hadn't realized that longing
Is another form of standing at a station no train ever reaches.
Time asked him:
"Why do you go ahead of yourself, O shadow?"
And he replied with a voice only those who’ve lost theirs could hear:
"Because I’ve learned that light is sometimes delayed,
And that truth is not in what we see,
But in what is hidden from us."
And when the train passed again,
He did not move…
For he had come to know that some journeys
Are not forward,
But inward.
©®TAGHRID BOU MERHI – LEBANON – BRAZIL
Πέμπτη 1 Μαΐου 2025
Carpe " Μαγιάτικη μέρα..."
μια κίνηση αβρή,
ένα χάδι ,ένα χαμόγελο ,
μια λέξη την κατάλληλη στιγμή,
λατρεύω τον τρόπο που μ 'αγάπησες,
δεν φανερώθηκες ποτέ
.... σαν μέρα Μαγιάτικη
η γέννηση κι ο θάνατος μαζί.
Carpe
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