Yoana Stoyanova
Yoana Stoyanova was born in Gorna Oryahovitsa on March 8th, 1992. She graduated in Cultural Studies from Sofia University St. Kliment Ohridski. For the last ten years, she has been working at Ideas Factory Association, as well as other non-profit organizations, as a project coordinator, digital communicator, translator and editor.
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Some of her poems were published in Podslon, Krastopat, Vallejo & co magazines, Literary Newspaper, Litclub, New Asocial Poetry. Yoana was part of the Otvor (An Opening) performances, based on the eponymous debut poetry book of Rumen Pavlov. Her debut poetry collection Fluid Cores (Флуидни ядра) was published in 2022 by Ars publishing house and was edited by Valentin Dishev. In the same year Yoana was awarded an accompanying prize in the national poetry competition “Southern Spring”.
THE AUTHOR’S VOICE
Поезията е:
На първо място – пристан. Сплав от магика, заклинание, изричане на себе си и света по начина, по който съм способна в момента, заедно с болката от неизречимото. Изпълване със смисъл там, където са разрушените мостове между духовността и ежедневието.
Какъв е животът на твоята поезия (как се ражда, как порасва, как съзрява, как умира)?
Ражда се, като съумея да се събера в погледа си, като присъствам автентично и чувствам; от всеки стимул, идващ от живото. Често е готова да се самоанихилира, когато чувството за безопасност се разпада. Тази нейна защитна реакция често наричам своя слабост. Съзрява и се овластява във всеобхватното качество поетичност, с което опитвам да пропивам всичко, което правя.
Изкуството свързано ли е с политиката и проблемите на нашето време? Кои проблеми те гнетят?
Неразривно – или явно, или в по-абстрактни форми, но винаги подхранвано от обществената почва, в която виреем.
Нетърпимо ми е знанието за липсата на достъп до базови услуги, грижа и условия за живот на много хора в България. Безхаберието, в което са оставени много възрастни хора, живеещи в села. Нетърпимо ми е страданието, което ежедневно виждам, заради безсмислени, привидно идеологически войни, арестувани хора в система с разпадащи се общоприети граници за справедливост…
Отвъд това, от 10 години съм част от организация, която допринася за децентрализацията на ресурси и грижа между градове и села – най-вече за възрастните хора в села.
Какво искаш да остане след думите?
Свързването. Намерението за свързване и нагласата да търсим допирните точки в човешкото.
Къде отиват ненаписаните истории?
Под кожата. Там създават свои взривоопасни селища.
my belonging is
a bundle of rays
slipping from my hand
Translated by Rumen Pavlov
longing for the surrounding environment
the ray in the living room
the unwashed jars
the un¬¬cleaned garden
the women who work in the shop
inevitably we already know each other
inevitably the danger that I am already
known
what can I contribute here
why I always feel like
my contribution is meant
for a perpetual
elsewhere
Translated by Rumen Pavlov
a suitcase for war
I pack the tied up herbs
in noiseless envelopes
the breathing cut into expecting snatches
in white boxes
I take something
from each temporary home
humanity
I vomit everything I could be
everything we could be
I tuck the ritual tools
into each small crack
I clasp the edges with golden pins
good thing I’ve been procrastinating myself enough
I don’t weigh much
good thing
it’s just a dream
Translated by Rumen Pavlov
I’ve been a mother of my mother
and I remain a child with myself
I look for the adult one in the underwear of my partner
by seasonless birds I send incantations
to bring me the missing tiny bone
the missing skull of timeliness
the missing sternum
a bone sticking its tongue out at my past
the crystal tiny core
of my present self
Translated by Rumen Pavlov
the-most-clearly-justified assault
you procrastinate what’s innermost
you know perfectly well the chronology of procrastination
of yourself
of putting your colours to sleep
you can describe it in a process-oriented map
ofa life that could be
if you follow the obedient wagging of the tail of shame
of a life whose value should be
A DIORAMA OF WHAT IS SHOWN
you can donate it to the future generations
you can compare the authenticity it represents
still that’s the way it
still authenticity can be given
a clearer definition
Translated by Rumen Pavlov
seized land
we dragged ourselves into the dens of our traumas
into the moist finger gaps of the words
we forced each other
now dig
heal
chase away the toxins
gargle with my saliva
there lies the answer
Translated by Rumen Pavlov
The Narcissus’ pet
we met
in the colourful abyss
between two departures
the white dog of deliverance
bit our wounds respectfully
the blind dog of forgiveness
knew our fragrance by heart
the white dog of forgiveness
tore at the lips
of what was not spoken
Translated by Rumen Pavlov
*** my ego is friable
my ego is friable
my relationship with god – oblique
my soul is christian
without being trained to jump
through this hoop
I tangle my fingers in the jelly of spiritualities
I can’t find an image
only seasons, animals
bacteria
fragrances
and the colour of one and the same sky
changing every morning
Translated by Rumen Pavlov
we hang by a hair
a hair of union
a hair of alienation
by an orange clothespin
we hang
lined between dreamy dunes
by a hair of connection
by a slim string
from the moustache of a dumb deity
we hang
Translated by Rumen Pavlov
spontaneous remission
on my birthday night
my mother dreams about
giving a birth to a third child
this time –
without pain
Translated by Rumen Pavlov
I’m a false witness in my own womb
bodybody
body
body
unacknowledged
home
home
home home
homehome
nobody’s
Translated by Rumen Pavlov
prayer
give me joy
so that I can jump over the moist threshold
between the insights
give me stability
so that I don’t forget the nature inside me
remind me the whole
remind me to put myself
in the first place
listening to the hearts of others
without mending them
with pieces from my own
Translated by Rumen Pavlov
What is poetry?
First and foremost – a haven. A fusion of magic, a spell, the voicing of myself and the world as I am able at this moment, along with the ache of the indescribable.
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Stoyanova