Sunday, July 5, 2026

LEGEND OF THE MOONLIT PATH

By Yasen Vedrin
(A Motley Palette)

A legend whispered from a shell to me
About the moonbeams born of love and light.
A tale so innocent, so pure and free,
That I am ready to whisper it in rhyme tonight.

In ancient times, the sea was wild and grim,
With rolling waves that brought out death and fear.
Its waters could not shine, its view was dim,
And darkness swallowed all its days and cheer.

But rumors started of a magic spell.
A heavy curse that came from greed of old.
The sea would calm down, if it found to dwell
A single sign of love, more pure than gold.

Pirates and sailors didn't trust a word
Of what was whispered even by the gale,
Yet still in barrels, away from being heard,
They piled up the metal, bright and pale.

But look – upon a ship by chance delayed,
A traveler climbed, so humble, quiet, and meek.
Despaired by heavy life and choices made,
He chose an unconquered shore to look and seek.

He was not rich. He only held inside
A red notebook with verses good and grand.
A little bag across his shoulder tied,
And for the ticket – all the coins in hand.

Thus sailed the ship amidst the heavy tide,
The blowing wind had filled the canvas white.
The heavy clouds began the stars to hide,
And ocean shadows grabbed it in the night.

And look, the sea began to roar and swell.
The curse was lurking, hidden everywhere.
With heavy waves inside the rooms it fell,
And struck the helpless poet with despair.

“The life is done!” – the man had softly said –
“I found no love! Good luck was never mine!
If I am meant to drown – let waves ahead
Cover me up, I am accursed this time!”

The sailors drowned and vanished without trace,
Drunk from the heavy grog they liked to sip.
The poet sighed his final tear of grace,
And leaped into the dark waves from the ship.

A magic spell it was or just a song,
But at the bottom he beheld a maid.
An angel-face, a messenger so strong,
Deep in the cold and fearsome depths displayed.

With her own hands she lifted him above,
And looked at him with fairy, dreaming eyes.
He could not speak a single word of love,
Except to watch in silence and surprise.

His life returned, not lost into the deep.
He breathed again upon a lonely strand.
Looked at the mermaid, falling in love so deep.
Her face – a moon in darkness of the land.

He gave the book and told her, soft and low:
“My only savior, you are all I see!
The waters drowned the others long ago.
Take in return the dreams that live in me!

My heart is there, in gentle words displayed!
And every joy I didn't live to view!
I’d follow you in waters with no shade,
And in this flash, I vow myself to you!”

The ocean and its waves grew calm and still.
Amidst the clouds, the moon began to rise.
A magic beam shot down with all its will
Into the stranger’s and the woman’s eyes.

They touched their hands, so softly, on the crest,
They started walking o’er the ocean floor…
The moonlit path reminds us of the best –
A beautiful love, a miracle from before.

Come you as well into the story blue.
A poet waits for you and grieves inside.
Whispered by ancient shells, the legend's true...
Perhaps it is! Along the rising tide.

MUSIC FOR TWO

By Yasen Vedrin
(A Motley Palette)

When you whisper softly to me: Stay! –
Then everything in us will feel brand new.
The wide expanse with music then will play
With pre-classic and romantic melodies too.

The music score will take its flight with wings
And call us to the clouds that drift above.
The bow will turn into an arrow that springs.
The violin – into a heart pouring with love.

The flute’s enchanting and delightful sound
Will be a stream of water from the spout.
The piano – a soft roof-drop on the ground,
So quiet, to hear your whisper speak out.

The guitar with its gentle, ringing chime
Will quickly turn into a birdhouse, small.
To wake us from our sleep at morning time,
And shed a ray of light upon our curls and all.

It will be a wondrous, fairy moment, true,
When you whisper to me that I must remain...
Because the love is a conductor for you,
And music – always for a pair, in the rain...

HERBARIUM

By Yasen Vedrin
(A Motley Palette)

Inside my poor soul a herbarium of leaves
Reminds me of you with its colorful spaces.
The breath of the spring in your sweet smile achieves,
And you fold my heart in your summer embraces.

With small, gentle bundles of soft, glowing light,
The riddles are painted right into my keeping.
The leaves are now born. Memories of days, bright –
So endlessly tender, so fast and so fleeting.

The collection of leaves – heavy with love's art,
One after another its pages discloses.
And each recollection – like scrolls in the heart –
Into a wild fire within my eyes closes.

And how can I say that you aren't by my side,
When each single shade but completes your emotion?
If I were the Earth – by your leaves caught and tied,
I’d make a bright spring start to grow into motion...

If I were the Sky – with south winds I’d descend
To be a warm summer in palms that are slender.
And thousands of leaves once again would contend
In this fair herbarium of love, pure and tender.

My soul is completely filled up with each leaf.
A single tear gleams. No, I will not be crying...
I'm happy that even in eternity’s brief,
I’ll find you right there, if my gaze keeps on trying...

A MOTLEY PALETTE

By Yasen Vedrin
(A Motley Palette)

I grew so used to watching through your eyes –
Deep down, to where your very heart would stay.
I captured all the mornings that would rise
And caressed sunsets at the end of day.

I felt you – burning hot, and filled with rain.
I touched the atmospheres where dreams would start.
I took you – innocent, and blamed with pain.
I envisioned you – with traits, and lines apart.

I loved you – transparent, and wrapped in haze.
I warmed you up amidst the snow and gale.
I dreamed of you – in sad and happy days,
With joys and shadows of a fearful tale.

I thirsted for you – blooming, green and white.
I vowed you to my manly, secret gleam.
I shielded you from autumn’s yellow blight.
I drank you up – both sober and in dream.

You have become my motley palette, true,
Within your shades I found your form and sign.
I grew so used to looking straight at you
And turning all my thoughts into a line.

I fly with you when morning light expands,
And in the sunset fall asleep, inside.
Satiated with love... Yet through the lands
Unsatisfied I wake in you – you in my tide.

Tuesday, June 30, 2026

BE AN ANGEL TO ME!

By Yasen Vedrin
(Fulfilled Universe)

Be an angel to me, prepared to fight
For every single ray in my soul with a sword.
Up close – to comfort me like a call of light,
From far – to pray for me with breaths toward the Lord.

Fold me in dreams beneath your wings at night.
Create me inside your eyes with dreams you bear.
Become a holiness – forever bright,
Ready to illuminate each moment there.

Be an angel to me! My human days
Divinely pierce and weave with sacred thread.
Forgive the sins that are beyond all ways,
And clear my wounds with tenderness instead.

Within your face let me the heavens find!
Within your hair – the thrill that nights impart!
If you’re beginning – let me be close behind,
And let eternity gather in our heart.

Be an angel to me – to faith and vow!
To fulfillment in prayer and desire’s trace!
Younger than sprouts! Older than worlds are now!
But pure – like candle flames in sacred space...

YOU ARE MINE, YOU ARE MINE!

By Yasen Vedrin
(Fulfilled Universe)

You are mine, you are mine! Just so pure and so mine,
Like the wind dancing wild on the bare mountain peak.
I would gather your drops from the downpour divine.
I would paint you on windows with breaths that I speak.

You are mine, you are mine! A bright bound in the vast,
A long prayed-for and starry, clear sky of the night.
Sunrise born from events in gold-silver morn cast.
Cloud of faith and a target for strong wings in flight.

You are mine, you are mine! An eternity wide,
Holding inside the meaning of few manly words.
Trembling strings of a lyre awoken with pride.
Flower, blooming in grass with the songs of the birds.

You are mine, you are mine! Just so pure and so mine!
Breeze that comes from the future. Loud roar of deep streams.
Tremor inside our speech. Tender tear of design!
End of all my long searches in calls and in dreams!

REMIND ME OF MY LOVE!

By Yasen Vedrin
(Fulfilled Universe)

Remind me of my love in deep, strong roots.
A tree for you through all the years I’ve been.
I fought the endless summers in pursuits
Just for your whisper and your laughter, queen.

Remind me of my love in river mouths.
It turned the little stream into a tide.
And in the gorges – fulfilled premonitions’ truths,
I only wished to sweep you to my side.

Remind me of my love in summer gales,
That blew the glowing embers into sparks.
For you were my bright coal that never fails,
And didn't cover up my thrills with darks.

Remind me of my love in starry flights,
In which I used to dream of you, unbound.
Cosmic and vast... Rain from the highest heights
In drops of galaxy crystal around.

Remind me of my love with chronicles pure,
In which we need each single line to stay.
And let God see His follower endure,
Who kept the sacred covenant all the way.

FULFILLED UNIVERSE

By Yasen Vedrin
(Fulfilled Universe)

When after all hardships and wandering far
I find your sweet gaze settling softly on me...
When seconds and minutes stop dead where they are,
And my touch in your body reminds of dawn's sea...

When impossibly ancient and sacred beliefs
Are fulfilled in a breath and a look, like a moan...
When stepping where Eden’s fore-hall brings reliefs,
I discover and know that your soul is a throne...

When dreaming and impulses, unvoiced and deep,
Seek their ultimate meaning in two words alone...
When we are like ropes that attraction will keep,
And the feeling above us as falls has been thrown...

When from lonely and hollow spaces of hands
Our fingers are woven by one single call...
When you are cross-blessed after prayed-for commands,
My only and sought-after love of them all...

When eternity finds a safe haven and crest
For all of its quiet and shimmering waves...
When you are a book, still unread and at rest,
Where echoes of poetry ring from its caves...

When joy, still unquenched and so wild in its race,
Turns all of my sparks into fireworks of fire –
Then let the great universe finally find place,
The one that I failed to bestow your desire...

WALK ME THROUGH, O MY LOVE!

By Yasen Vedrin
(Fulfilled Premonitions)

Walk me through, O my love! I am your longest path to pursue!
Ready even ten pairs of your shoes in a day to destroy.
There is an untouched peak in white clouds. Let it happen that you
Will discover it first, having walked all along me with joy.

Walk me through, O my love! Only travelers truly can love,
When they want to search out a bright stream or a star from the night.
They will find all their dreams, once they lose them to heavens above,
Like a faith that is wandering safe in God’s hands out of sight.

Walk me through, O my love! The endless is shrinking down fast.
And the borders are warming our eyes with kind shoulders to bear.
Weary even to death, to remember you’re living at last –
For the priceless prepared to pay prices and bills everywhere.

Walk me through, O my love! I alone bring eternity's flare!
Like bright circles, in sunrise and sunset, o’er steppes set ablaze.
And at last – having touched my near distance so close and so rare,
Turn into my own path. And I will start traveling your ways!

A NOTEBOOK FOR LOVE

By Yasen Vedrin
(Fulfilled Premonitions)

Search inside my poor memory, O love –
Old, worn pages of notebooks and space.
Find all wonderful balms from above,
And the paths to your measureless grace.

I am unable to turn back the time,
But I pray to you now... Take a look!
I’ve no call withered by anxious rime.
Your sweet days were a beautiful book!

Like a puzzle of pictures so bright
All the pieces inside me arrange.
Where you’re spring-like and blue in the light,
Leaving traces in grass without change.

Or where summer-hot touches are born,
In which palms turn to nests that are blessed.
And it’s so, oh so warm from that morn,
As if fire untamed reigns in the chest...

Do not skip any meetings or nights.
Every page that is in me just read.
And my eyes will become candlelights,
If through nights with my soul you will tread.

Do not cross out the errors of past.
Maybe through them my hair turned to white.
And forgive me, humanely and fast,
Even sins that are darkest to sight.

And when reaching the cover at last –
Shelter all of my memory near.
In my quill a bright spark is still cast
To light words and the dreams I hold dear.

Search me through! Let your spirit remain!
I have found no last word or goodbye...
You stay heavenly visible and plain,
Like a tender God's smile in the sky!

BE EVERYTHING TO ME!

By Yasen Vedrin
(Fulfilled Premonitions)

If you are pain, should I then experience you?
If you are gift, should I gift myself away?
If you are spring, should I inside calls thirst for you?
If you are fire, should I burn you with my spray...

If you are song, should I inside verse sing your tone?
If you are flight, should I fly across your space?
If you are secret, should I understand you, alone?
If you are pardon, should I pardon your embrace...

If you are cross, should I crucify and stay
My late and chained up impulse to your side?
If you are anchor, should I sink down right away
Into the depths where your pure dreams abide?

If you are miracle, should I weep you in a moan?
If you are dream, a sigh upon my chest?
If you are threshold, should I cross you all alone?
My only love! Be everything, my best!…

IS IT WORTHWHILE?

By Yasen Vedrin
(Fulfilled Premonitions)

Do not ask Love if it is worth the cost.
For human souls it has no price or chart.
It seems a breath, yet blows like tempests tossed.
It is a tear, yet waves within the heart.

It gleams with sparks – in fleeting moments caught,
But inside flames a roaring fire will expand.
Upon our faces, impressions will be wrought.
With pure delight it silvers hair and strand.

From pieces of mere clay a jar it molds
And inside marble wakes sonnets from the dead.
Our quietest of secrets it unfolds.
Within our brightest prayers it guards our bed.

It stops the minutes, weeks, and rolling years
Into a single, unchangeable, clear call.
And all its spring-like gardens past our tears
We hardly shall walk through with you at all.

Most Sacred in our hearts, resolved to stay,
It shines upon a throne of brilliant light...
Do not ask Love if it is worth the way.
For human souls it has no price or sight.

WONDROUS LOVE, SILVER-FACED

By Yasen Vedrin
(Gold Coins in the Oak Chest)

Wondrous love, silver-faced, from my soul it begins to awaken.
Turning into a stream by the cliffs, and a falls in the stones.
And the wind, by its beauty enchanted, a lyre has taken,
Softly whispering spray to the thorns and the briars in zones.

In a flash, living grass in a wonderful tremor turns green,
And it waits to be spotted by carpet-weavers on their part.
Cuckoo calls from fatigue. Sweetest nightingale sings all unseen.
While the stream – running downward – keeps pouring its luminous heart.

An old mill of our village. You come here in dressed-up attire.
And the water keeps turning the wheel near the sunrise so bright.
Knead a loaf of round bread for me, shared and faithful desire,
On a furnace of burning hot coals let it bake through the night.

Wondrous love, silver-faced, from my soul it now flows to the land.
Come along to the threshing-floor soon! Invite guests to the floor!
My own spring found your way, and it vows for your love and your hand.
Eloped with me, my darling! I want you, elope evermore...

MY DEAR CHOSEN FATE-WEAVER!

By Yasen Vedrin
(Gold Coins in the Oak Chest)

Do you heal heavy wounds, my dear chosen and beautiful fate-weaver?
Do you still keep that gift in your fingers that tremble and gleam?
Maybe you have found herbs that were wonderfully fashioned forever,
For the heroes whose hopes have run out like a fast-fading dream.

Light a wild, burning fire from leaves and dry twigs in the valley.
Pour a copper pot full from the stream that flows down by the clearing.
Rip my shirt into pieces... Right there, where my heart used to rally,
A fierce pain cuts me through, and the memory keeps reappearing.

How can one forget faces, once dreamed of in nights that were starry?
How can sadness be cured, when no potion is found for its grief?
And my tired, old eyes – by what miracle do they now vary,
Or do they just fall asleep, having seen their own end and relief?

Sprinkle powder upon my bare chest from the long-barreled rifle.
Throw a burning hot coal – let the deep, bleeding wound be now seared.
Then with handfuls of water my destiny’s dark shadows stifle –
Just a moment before by the mountain-top rays you are cleared.

DID YOU WEAVE IT, MY MOTHER?

By Yasen Vedrin
(Gold Coins in the Oak Chest)

Did you weave it, my mother, that last woolen rug on the loom,
From those rags that you cut into pieces, so many and small?
In my shattered, old memory, holy and clear through the gloom,
You alone have remained, and to God for your eternity I’d call.

Did you weave all my old recollections – to step and feel warm?
To be breathed by the magical scent of a quince on the shelf...
To tell you without voice that you are my protection from storm,
Like a living icon that the heart never hides from itself.

Did you weave all my tears that I wept since a boy in the street,
With my knees torn and bleeding, and burning from nettles like fire?
Did you weave all the sparks that remained in the bread-morsel sweet,
And the hard clods of earth by the field of our village and sire?

Did you weave all the sighs in your quiet and passionate mind?
By my white little bed from the eve till the morn you would stay...
Did you weave all the seasons that left you so silver and kind,
And that painted your face with the wrinkles of heavy decay?

You have woven it all, I well know... And the gate speaks your name.
By the locust tree, empty, that rug is now spread on the ground.
On my knees, I now kiss your bright spirit. I’ll pass just the same,
But I’ll pass to my children your shuttle from looms you have wound.