ZLATAN DEMIROVIĆ
Bilingual book writer, novelist, critic, internationally acknowledged poet, and trilingual translator (English, Czech, Bosnian-Croatian-Serbin languages).
* The founder of PRODIGY LIFE ACADEMY and author of the PRODIGY LIFE PROGRAM, which serves as a platform for spiritual and personal development.
* Founder and Editor in Chief of PRODIGY PUBLISHED USA (publishing, promoting books, self-developing programs, anthologies of world multilingual poetry etc.)
* DOCTOR OF HUMANITY of PRIXTON CHURC & UNIVERSITY-Milwaukee, USA (2021)
* HIGHER HONORARY DEGEE of ACADEMY OF ART AND CALIGAPHY-EGYPT (2021).
* MEMBER of the ADMINISTRATION COUNCIL THE MOMENT INTERNATIONALNEWS-USA
* Admin advisor for POETRY AND LITERATURE WORLD VISION, EACRITORES SIN FRONTIERAS.
* Multiply awarded as a poet, philanthropist, and humanist.
* His poetry, novels, essays, and critics have been published and presented in various literature magazines, radio, TV, media streams and participated in many anthologies around the world.
* Author and Editor-in-chief of anthology “Bangladesh English Poets” (27 renowned authors from Bangladesh), Pakistani English Poets (25 renowned authors from Pakistan) and more than 200 books other authors .
* Founder and editor of Prodigy Magazine 2022
Books published:
PRODIGY LIFE; 4 STEPS TEACHING FOR SELF-HEALING; GENIUS MINDSET TRAINING; PAIDA LAJIN SAMOIZLJECENJE; POETRY COLLECTIONS 1,2,3
(All published in USA, by BALBOA PRESS, AMAZON, PRODIGY PUBLISHED)
Translated into:
FRAGMENTI DUŠE
Razasuti su svuda,
ko putokazi na raskrižjima rastanaka,
mirisni cvjetovi sjećanja,
nedozrelih čežnji
na ukrštanju puteva
praiskonskih snova…
Kao žigovi i sumorne rane
neostvarenih želja,
na uvenulim pupoljcima
vječnih pranadanja…
Ranjene duše nikada
ne ostaju cijele,
A nisu ni same,
i kao lišće sa drveća
u rojevima padaju
na promrzlo tlo,
gdje se upuštaju u putovanja
ponovnog začeća, u pravcu
zacjeljenja najdubljih rana…
Govore glasovima predaka,
spajajući poznato sa nepoznatim…
polusvjesno sanjajući,
da će jednom sresti
svjetlo te najviše svijesti,
što otvara pogled na put,
put potpunog opraštanja,
zajedničkih i vlastitih nedjela…
Bez obzira na sve,
sunce izlazi na horizontu,
na imaginarnom obzoru više sfere,
kao da pokazuje zlatni ključ
i hoće nam opet reći,
da otvara vrata
sjedinjenja
sa nekim,
jednim,
vječnim,
jedinim i
neprikosnovenim…
SOUL FRAGMENTS
They are scattered everywhere,
as signposts at the crossroads of partings,
fragrant flowers of memory,
immature longings
at the crossroads
of primal dreams…
Like scars and grim wounds
unfulfilled wishes,
on withered buds
eternal blessings…
Wounded souls never remain whole,
that, as in some child’s imagination,
gave way to the curious
in the box of the amphitheater, eager for apparitions…
There is little room for harmless pictures…
Those souls are never alone.
Like leaves from trees
they fall in swarms
on the frozen ground,
where they embark on journeys
of re-conception, in the direction
healing the deepest wounds…
They speak with the voices of their ancestors,
combining the known with the unknown…
half-consciously dreaming,
that they will meet one day
the light of that highest consciousness,
which opens a view of the road,
the path of complete forgiveness,
common and own misdeeds…
No matter what,
the sun rises on the horizon,
on the imaginary horizon of the higher sphere,
as if showing a golden key
and will tell us again,
to open the door
unions with
eternal,
one,
the only one
and inviolable…
CHRISTMAS NIGHT
(in the company of writers)
I wandered lonely as a cloud
when all at once I was surrounded
by a crowd a host of people
with joy shining in their soul
celebrating the day…
And there’s also a man that’s
in a good mood, as he is
sharing it with others and
asking all about the last nigh…
I couldn’t avoid to be questioned
by him about how I spent
the Christmas night.
so I answered “Great fully“…
The questioner, partially taken aback
by that answer, would continue curiously,
„Surrounded by family, right“?
„Yes“, readily I said, through my teeth,
although he neither suspects,
nor considers the possibility
that someone can live alone…
It’s not that I don’t have
anyone to share my life with,
moreover, the whole world is my book…
But anyway, who would rather listen to
the truth from the first hand:
I proudly use to grab
a stack of neatly stacked bills,
from my secret compartment,
and form a new bunch
of twenty green ones…
So, what that typical materialist
should ask me again, I refuse even get
into his dilemmas anymore…
Finally, I left my little castle
and took a ride in my
luxurious black limousine,
pondering about last holidays,
for my valuable work,
I was granted by the Lord of the Universe…
Just to see, what my people
do and feel out there.
You don’t need to drive far,
over wide and decorated boulevards,
so to meet the specimens
from my target group.
Those, who in supermarket charts
are driving around all their property,
mobile and that immobile…
What a roasted turkey
is compared to that cosmic energy,
as I’m flashed by looking into the eyes
all those surprised prize winners
of a measly twenty bucks!
I can just guess,
what all busy passers-by,
in rush for a dinner party,
would think about it…
And, specifically,
that alien over there…
But, surely, I know
how the Universe works and see that!
Based on everything,
it seems that both of us
have no better job to do this night…
That sublime energy,
so scary to others,
no longer is a phenomenon for me.
Also for modern science,
which doesn’t care about it at all…
All in all,
it fulfilled me
with all I’m missing!
The same as those winners,
who I simply use to call,
underground life story writers…
Merry Christmas!
WOMAN
It’s a poison!
Elixir of happiness,
floating through the veins…
Mesmerising shadow
at the edge of all dreams,
vibrating in telomeres…
Childish killing dream,
the old man’s self esteem…
First teenage creation,
the neuro-plasticity
visions of the imaginary worlds.
Just like an apple,
and a sin, divided on two…
Who’s to loose,
it’s always you!
Why?
Because, there’s one
secret pristine shape,
the color of violet light,
the smell of mother’s milk,
imprinted in every heart,
driving us to the end
of endless road…
And there’s always,
a women of your dream…
MUJER
¡Es un veneno!
Elixir de felicidad,
flotando en las venas…
Sombra fascinante
al borde de todos los sueños,
vibrando en los telómeros…
Sueño infantil de matar,
la autoestima del anciano…
Primera creación adolescente,
la neuroplasticidad
visiones de los mundos imaginarios.
como una manzana,
y un pecado, dividido en dos…
¿Quién va a perder,
¡siempre eres tú!
¿Por qué?
porque hay uno
forma prístina secreta,
el color de la luz violeta,
el olor de la leche materna,
impreso en todos los corazones,
llevándolos hasta el final
de camino sin fin…
Y siempre hay,
una mujer de tu sueño…
©® Translated by AHdez Felipe
PEACE OF MIND
It’s not time for criticism,
nor smart discussions!
No logic, no reason…
No time for hypocrisy,
nor our proverbial cynicism,
addressing empty lessons to executor!
No time for mining historical facts,
nor adornment with symbols of luck!
Once upon a time,
we knew how to pray for the rain,
or even unravel the storm…
But, our cell memory of underground evil
is burning light inside the black hole
of soft white cloud of living!
Let’s celebrate all we’ve been bestowed:
the holly breath, the bright blue sky,
wild forest, mountain spring
with ocean lullaby…
But, It’s the last minute to pray
for something we’re desperately missing!
We, the Humans, from all sides,
let’s pray for
PEACE OF MIND!
CAUSALLY CONSEQUENTIAL REVERSIBILITY
Once upon a time there was a bird,
with lovely overflowing-colored feathers
and the rosary of the beautiful flock queen.
She could choose her prince,
amid young lovers clustering to her.
But she lost her status of a golden feather,
as she took a prince from another flock.
He left his nest with four little birds
and moved to the nest with seven of hers.
Was attracted by a secret heart-burning force!
She looked for a lover and got her servant.
A brave knight has never been a servant,
but his yoke was light in his burning passion.
The honeymoon is just a moment
in a sea of every day’s acquired habits,
nourishing the body, cooling the heart flames.
Well, the confused bird is watching now
for her darling flying away forever from her nest.
While now he wanders lonely as a cloud
looking for a nest, cursing the routine that kills love,
she took the first young prince
from her own flock, gifting him with her empty heart.
So now she wonders, is anyone worth
losing her golden feather,
cause she would like it back.
But the only one who knows the answer
is an old flock leader, sitting alone
on a dried branch of a decrepit oak.
“Nobody has put together a broken glass yet!
You didn’t lose your golden feather
as a sacrifice of love!
It is the price of ignorance, adultery and lies,
which occupied your mind from the beginning!
Sin is sometimes paid ahead”!