When Botev Peaked

By Turlough
- 807 reads
When Botev Peaked
She would have liked me
To buy you wine
Or call on you at least
But are you never in?
I’d overheard her tears
Missing the tram to work
We quarrelled with a name
Of someone who once raged
Go brave grandfather!
Know your papa didn’t know you
A man who feared home
Too pained to try even riding by
But laughed at the mountain’s name
And mistakes he’d paid for
On wounded walls around a square
Pictures of mothers’ splintered children
A village weeping
Sees heroes pass and return
To smite, to sullow
Those patsies sent to croak
With their bloodied geese limbs
On Andreevden without you
Water flowed quietly
Beneath the ice
I drank the wine alone
Watched boiled grains swell
So your crops might be abundant
When the bear pulls the plough again
Image:
The old Kivgir Bridge in Tryavna on a cold Andreevden some years back. My own photograph.
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Comments
I had to look up Hristo Botev
I had to look up Hristo Botev, as I knew nothing about this man. I discovered he was a poet who was in exile for a good part of his life because of his beliefs in dignity and freedom. He wrote poems of the mountains, rivers and fields and there's even a mountain named after him.
That third stanza really stood out for me:
On wounded walls around a square
Pictures of mothers' splintered children
A village weeping
Sees heroes pass and return
To smite, to sullow
Those patsies sent to croak
With their blooded geese limbs
Such powerful words that sum up how Botev must have seen it.
It's important to remember these couragous people who were revolutionary with pen rather than weapons.
Thank you for teaching me something new through your poem Turlough.
Jenny.
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I had to look this gentleman
I had to look this gentleman up as well, so thank you for introducing me to someone new! It's a great, thoughtful poem, Turlough. I'll be back for lots more reads.
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Your explaination was
Your explaination was appreciated Turlough.
Thank you.
Jenny. ![]()
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ah, wisdom, it comes in many
ah, wisdom, it comes in many guises. Bears pulling ploughs. Botev may have peaked, but he's not in the past.
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Or Celtic being called Celtic
Or Celtic being called Celtic because they stole all Hibernian's players when starting out. Both being a form of green otherness.
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I looked up his poems, so
I looked up his poems, so much energy, certainty!
'The fool is honoured everywhere,
"He's rich" they say, and do not care'
I don't remember celebrating any of England's great writers the way Burns is, here. It's brilliant that children learn about him at primary school. And having Botev's words in their memories, no wonder Bulgarian young people would protest against corrupt government! And both poets celebrated on St Andrew's :0)
"I’d overheard her tears" I don't know if you meant it so, but this made me think of being an immigrant to the place you call home, whose history is not your own. I loved how you by the end of your poem you were embracing the customs, becoming part of the land you both love
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Thank YOU for replying, so
Thank YOU for replying, so widely!
ps. Do you have bears still wild, in Bulgaria?
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