Рене

Rene Karabash (Irena Ivanova)

Rene Karabash (Irena Ivanova, 1989) is a poet, writer, screenwriter, and playwright. She is the founder and mentor of the “Rabbit Hole” Writers’ Academy, where some of Bulgaria’s most prominent poets and writers teach. For her novel Ostainitsa, Rene received the Elias Canetti Literary Award, a nomination for Novel of the Year by the “13 Centuries of Bulgaria” Foundation, and the Peroto Literary Award.

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The novel has been translated into Egyptian, French, Polish, Bosnian and Herzegovinian, Macedonian, Italian, Swedish, and Greek, with upcoming editions planned for the United States, Brazil, the United Kingdom, Serbia, Germany, and other countries.
At the end of 2023, the French translation of her novel Ostainitsa won the French PEN Club Translation Award, presented to translator Marie Vrinat-Nikolov. That same year, the English translation of the novel, by translator Izidora Angel, received the Gulf Coast Translation Prize in the United States. And at the beginning of 2025, the translation won the prestigious HEIM Translation Award from the American PEN Club.
In 2025, a film adaptation of the novel is scheduled for release, based on a screenplay by Rene and directed by Kostadin Bonev. The film is a co-production between Bulgaria, Albania, Italy, Romania, and Germany. Rene is the screenwriter for the BNT series They, the Waves. She received the “Heart of Europe” award from Polish National Television for an original TV series concept.
For her leading role in the film Godless (dir. Ralitza Petrova), she has won several awards for Best Actress: the Silver Leopard (Locarno), Heart of Sarajevo (Sarajevo), Aluminum Horse (Stockholm), and Golden Rose (Varna).

THE AUTHOR’S VOICE

Навсякъде. В падналото листо във формата на сърце. В сянката от прозореца, която пада на пода като кръст. В белия гълъб на перваза, в целувката на двама влюбени. С мен. Винаги с мен. Навсякъде.

Поезията е живот на еднодневка, обречена да живее вечно. Спуска се при мен не когато я викам, а когато тя поиска. Внезапно и неочаквано, като светкавица. Спуска се като лоза. Зрее като грозд върху листа ми. После листите лепнат дълго след нея. Дълго след мен. Дали някога умира? То е същото като да речем, че Бог умира. Зависи в какво избираш да вярваш. Дали ще продължиш да я откриваш и преоткриваш. Да я държиш жива край теб. Като последно убежище.

Дълг на изкуството е да отразява проблемите на нашето време. За проблемите в политиката има други хора. Поезията не е политология. Но може да бъде бунт. Да променя и да скандира, без да губи красотата си.
Има много неща, които ме гнетят, използвам поезията за бягство от тях, не за поредното потапяне в тях. Социалната поезия е важна и я уважавам, но не предпочитам нито да я чета, нито да я пиша.

Светлината.

Там, откъдето идват. И накъдето сме се запътили и ние. Към Абсолюта.
Може би ще получим шанса да се срещнем с тях отново и този път да ги напишем. Може би, кой знае…

come close
closer
even closer
touch your nose

here

so?
do you smell a poem?

Translated by Gergana Galabova

some guests simply watch
the beast in my cage
they take pictures, admiring
its morning yawn

others throw it meat
awaking its monstrous nature
despite the signs
don’t feed the lion in its cage
they keep throwing it flesh
calves, tongues, amourettes
through the rusty cages
of my chest

until one day the irreversible happens
many bid farewell to their fingers
others to an ear

some even lost
their heart

Translated by Gergana Galabova

the bird I
sent to look for land
came back with a strand
of your hair

Translated by Gergana Galabova

there’s nothing better than
writing a poem naked

the paper pulses like skin
and inside a tattoo artist
embroiders words of eternity

with my purest blood

Translated by Gergana Galabova

I love her so much
that I warm up her spot
then lay on the cold side of the bed

and when she asks me if I’m cold
I say
no, love
I am so hot
I’m burning
burning
burning

Translated by Gergana Galabova

there’s a man inside me
who’s afaid you’ll go to the store
and you won’t come back

I hope you know that
that’s not me

it is my mother
my father
my grandma
my grandpa
and all my ancestors
till Adam himself

who by the way
is still waiting for Eve under the tree

Translated by Gergana Galabova

There are streets you know
you will never
cross
there are beds you know
you will never prop up

you’re an open book
and yet
your pages tremble
your covers harden
your letters darken

when love passes you by

Translated by Gergana Galabova

there’s a raging river in my body
which can’t remember
its name
where it came from
how many houses it wrecked
and how many cities it watered

all it knows is where it will empty in the end
into nothingness — where all rivers flow from

then she’ll forget again

Translated by Gergana Galabova

I love you
said the Russian doll
to the Trojan hourse

I love you too
replied the hourse
and entered her heart in a galop
without knowing

she has seven hearts

Translated by Gergana Galabova

I am Doubting Thomas
and I pick at the wound with my finger
I just want to make sure
that it’s there and pulsing
that it’s real
and I’m not dreaming
that this morning after breakfast
you really took the fork
and stabbed it into my heart
and said I love you

And I believed you:
in the dark she hadn’t seen
that the fork was glowing in your heart

Translated by Gergana Galabova

сега ще затворя тефтера

now I’ll close the notebook
and I’ll wake her

Translated by Gergana Galabova

What is poetry?

Everywhere. In the fallen leaf shaped like a heart. In the shadow from the window falling on the floor like a cross. In the white dove on the windowsill, in the kiss of two lovers. With me. Always with me. Everywhere.

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