Калоян Христов

Kaloyan Hristov

Kaloyan Hristov completed his secondary education at the National Aprilov High School. He graduated with a degree in Bulgarian Philology from Sofia University “St. Kliment Ohridski” and a master’s degree from the Faculty of Pedagogy at the same university, specializing in Educational Management. He is one of the founders and editors of the literary website Tetradkata.com, as well as the publishing house “Tetradkata.” 

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He teaches Bulgarian language and literature at the VEDA Private German Language High School in Sofia and at the National Aprilov High School in Gabrovo. He teaches an annual course in creative writing for high school students. Kaloyan Hristov’s literary studies have been published in the magazine “Literature” and others. His scientific works include: “The Geometry of Spaces in Chavdar Mutafov’s Decorative Novel “Dilettante”; “The Square and the Cabinet as Topoi of the Village and the City”; “The Cultural Biography of Vasil Aprilov and the Gabrovo School through the Eyes of Petko Slaveykov”; “The Square and the Study as Topoi of the Village and the City” etc.
In 2018, his first book of poetry, “Coincidences,” was published. His poems have been published in the Literary Newspaper, the magazine New Anti-Social Poetry, the magazine Literary World, the magazine Plamuk, the anthology Zornitsa, LiterNet, the anthology Poetry Against War, etc. He participated in the international poetry festival Sofia Metaphors in 2020, 2021, 2022, and 2023. At the invitation of the musicians from the band SoulBmoll, he wrote the lyrics for the song Nova Posoka (New Direction), which became part of the band’s first album. In 2020, his second poetry collection, “Salty Molecules” (published by Znatsi), was released. In 2024, his third poetry book, “Apology of Sensitivity” (published by Znatsi), was released.
He is the winner of: First Prize for Poetry in the National Competition “Nikola Vaptsarov” (2019), Grand Prize for Poetry in the National Literary Competition “More” (2020), the Aprilov Award for Book of the Year in the Young Author category (2021 and 2024), and has been a finalist twice in the Milly Duels International Poetry Competition (2019, 2021), a nominee on the longlist for the Peroto National Literary Award (2021), honorary diploma from the Vladimir Bashev National Literary Competition (2021). His poems have been translated into English, Arabic, Serbian, Spanish, and Greek.

THE AUTHOR’S VOICE

опит да откриеш изгубеното.

Наистина поезията се появява и върви по своя път. Понякога се отклонява, връща се отново на пътя, спира за почивка; понякога бърза или всички около нея бързат и не є обръщат внимание, а тя, като всеки, иска любов. Тя само иска да живее с любов.

Надявам се изкуството днес да не е свързано с политика, защото то е всичко, но не и политика. Въпреки че някои явления в изкуството в настоящето говорят обратното. Все пак смятам, че изкуството, в частност литературата, винаги е гласът, който тихо, но болезнено назовава проблемите на времето, в което присъства. Все повече забравяме къде е човекът в нас и обръщаме гръб на човека отсреща.
Социалните несправедливости са другата тема, която няма как да пропусна. Пропасти има между нас и те няма да се напълнят с вода, за да доплаваме с лодка до другия бряг, защото не умеем да прокопаем канал, по който да дойде водата.

Топлина. Всъщност думите са настояще. Самите те са след(и). Те са следствие. Иска ми се, ако думите са следствие, да не повтаряме грешките. Правилните думи намират правилните хора и тогава се превръщат във вечност.

В най-добрите книги. Ненаписаните истории са като неосъществените срещи, в които никой никого не е наранил.

Do you know how to calm storms? —
the sands asks
I don’t –
I answer.
Stand on the edge of a sea cape
and write a poem about the wind;
about the inexplicable that you cannot
hold in your hands.
Be silent.
If you want to be truly silent,
talk to the waves.
They will listen to you,
but you will not get an answer.
They will bring memories to your feet –
empty shells and last year’s jellyfish.
You will understand that on the other side of the sea
war is raging right now. The shore is deserted,
fenced with mines, families are fleeing,
and the fathers remain.
Be silent a little longer and you will hear them.

Stand on the edge of the rocks
and take the child in you by the hand.
Give them the sand kite
you keep in your pocket,
let go of the string and
let them run wild.

Translated by Gergana Galabova

He tries to jump over Cervantes’ windmills,
but he has long forgotten how to leap over frogs.
He no longer climbs over fences to secretly pick cherries,
but builds a thick wall to hide from others.
The kite’s string floats in the sky.

A fly drowns in a glass of milk
and no one will take it out,
because no one is bothered by it.
It is the hero of its time –
the last sailor leaving the moral ship.

And not a drop from the glass
has been spilled.

Translated by Gergana Galabova

The river of the present —
with all the sandy shores,
with the historical bridges and
the sparse willows.
In the potholes where we expect to find
the Golden Fish
we find old cans instead.
Some are lookalikes
but they’ve already fulfilles ones desire.

And the countless floating
moments like wild ducks,
which will not fly away
but dive into the deepend.

Translated by Gergana Galabova

She has a favorite
pastime —
collecting air kisses.
She puts them in catalogues.
She classifies them by age,
time, and
density.

The repeating ones
she returns and
never exchanges them
with anyone

Translated by Gergana Galabova

I defend you, my love.
I praise you
to protect you.
I purify you, crystal clear.
I warm you so you’re
calm.

Bukowski sang
of Van Gogh’s ear,
and Van Gogh sang of the art
of freedom.
Do not worry!
I will protect you!
You will be free!

I constantly argue
with your different selves,
but one day
the real one will appear,
the one with whom we get along
wonderfully,
as long as you remember
our common language,
which no one
else knows.

Translated by Gergana Galabova

Вместо поредната банална
плюшена играчка
ще ти подаря снежен човек.

Ще те топли със сламените си ръце
и ще се вглежда в очите ти
със своите въгленови зеници.
Ще мълчите до камината
достатъчно дълго.

И ако го допуснеш до себе си,
той никога няма да се разтопи.

Немите води.
Стените, ограждащи жестокостта.
Затворените уста, притиснатата в пода глава, начупените кости,
сухата болка.
Всичко е събрано в общ гроб.
Там са телата с историите, лицата със затворените завинаги очи,
устните с неизречените думи,
истината, която никога няма да се прибере вкъщи.

Сега тук гнездят десетки видове птици,
но не копаят три кубика пръст срещу 360 грама хляб,
кутия бульон и лъжица мармалад
за денонощие.

Някои от тях отлитат на юг,
други остават –
както остава неразказаната история.

Назоваваш с три различни имена
своите същности,
за да откриеш някоя от тях.
Откъсваш от розовата си цялост
и я прилепяш
към дебелия порцеланов ръб
на чашата.

По обед слънцето
те затопля
и потичат реки
от неизживяни мигове.

Залязва денят в клепачите ти
и тихо –
свита в стаята, събираш
частите си, за да се създадеш
отново,
но винаги
една част не пасва.

What is poetry?

First and foremost – a harbor. An alloy of magic, an incantation, giving voice to myself and the world as I am capable of doing at present, together with the pain of what lies beyond expression.

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