Quotes about Bulgaria
22 quotes about Bulgaria.
My dream-boat drifts on river Danube!
Bulgaria (Listeni /ˌ bʌ lˈ gerijə /; Bulgarian: Б ъ л г а р и я ; officially the Republic of Bulgaria Р е п у б л и к а Б ъ л г а р и я , translit. Republika Bulgaria, [6] [rɛ ˈ publikɐ bɤ ̞ ɫ ˈ ɡ arijɐ ]) , is a country in Southeast Europe. Bulgaria borders five other countries: Romania to the north (mostly along the Danube) , Serbia and the Republic of Macedonia to the west, and Greece and Turkey to the south. The Black Sea defines the extent of the country to the east.
O The ripples sing something
And I analyzed the song
That 's very familiar to my lonely soul
Like Black sea,
A rare bird's nocturne guides me the voyage
And I feel comfortable till I find the invisible shore!
* A humble dedication to the poetess Vessy!
Respond to your great poem ' The Mirror of Joy and Sadness'
None of us can avoid the illness and slow weakening of the body that accompany aging, and still fewer of us can escape death?
[Unlocking the mysteries of birth & death]
-Daisaku Ikeda
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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There are some common problems in the Balkans in the settlement of which Bulgaria should also participate.
quote by Todor Zhivkov
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tell me, what do they do for us in Bulgaria? Do they fix the prices? Or is there some kind of a free market?
quote by Dwayne Andreas
Added by Lucian Velea
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Bulgaria is the first state that has been awarded for its excellent fight against iodine deficiency by UNICEF.
quote by Anatoly Karpov
Added by Lucian Velea
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Romania and Bulgaria were particularly irresponsible. If they wanted to diminish their chances of joining Europe they could not have found a better way.
quote by Jacques Chirac
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sorry But Your Not Allowed To Go Here
You no longer provide your services in my country.
Well fine, I'm longer from my country.
United States you can not censor the internet.
I'm now surfing the web from Bulgaria.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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The Things
Art must mount a full-scale attack on language itself,
by means of language and its surrogates, on behalf of the standard of silence.
Susan Sontag.
I talk too much.
The Things are:
a flower
a grain of sand
a spark.
And all together.
Translator bulgarian-english: : Milena Veleva
poem by Bozhidar Pangelov
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We are aware that in 2005 our efforts to preserve the stability and prestige of the Republic of Bulgaria in the area of foreign policy, and our efforts to attain fully our strategic goals will be mostly contingent upon the way we address our domestic priorities.
quote by Georgi Purvanov
Added by Lucian Velea
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O That Sad Song Echoes and The River Volga Quietly Flows!
'River is deep Sonny!
My poor Mom she always yells
And never allowed us to swim
But she crossed the river long ago
By leaving us ashore!
The Bulgaria!
Old age cruise ship
Carrying 208 people
Overcrowded it seems?
And listed within few minutes
She sank all of a sudden!
Fifty children were there
Seventy nine people were rescued
And fifty eight bodies including five children
Were recovered.
I read in the morning paper.
O sister Volga you too helpless
But try to help them to find other bodies
At least a solace for their loved ones.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Latest School
See the flying French depart
Like the bees of Bonaparte,
Swarming up with a most venomous vitality.
Over Baden and Bavaria,
And Brighton and Bulgaria,
Thus violating Belgian neutrality.
And the injured Prussian may
Not unreasonably say
"Why, it cannot be so small a nationality
Since Brixton and Batavia,
Bolivia and Belgravia,
Are bursting with the Belgian neutrality."
By pure Alliteration
You may trace this curious nation,
And respect this somewhat scattered Principality;
When you see a B in Both
You may take your Bible oath
You are violating Belgian neutrality.
poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
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Alliterativism
See the flying French depart
Like the bees of Bonaparte,
Swarming up with a most venomous vitality.
Over Baden and Bavaria,
And Brighton and Bulgaria,
Thus violating Belgian neutrality.
And the injured Prussian may
Not unreasonably say
"Why, it cannot be so small a nationality
Since Brixton and Batavia,
Bolivia and Belgravia,
Are bursting with the Belgian neutrality."
By pure Alliteration
You may trace this curious nation,
And respect this somewhat scattered Principality;
When you see a B in Both
You may take your Bible oath
You are violating Belgian neutrality.
poem by G.K. Chesterton (1914)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Hanging Of Levski
O you, my Mother, my Native Land,
Why is your cry so sad and heart-rending!
And you, O Raven, accursed bird,
On whose grave croak you of ill impending?
I know, ah I know, you weep, my Mother,
Because you're a slave in bondage lying,
You weep because your sacred voice
Is a helpless voice in a desert crying.
Weep on, weep on! Near Sofia town
A ghastly gallows I have seen standing,
And your own son, Bulgaria,
There with dreadful force is hanging.
The raven gives its grim hoarse croak,
Dogs yelp, wolves howl, the sky is bleak,
Old men in prayers their God invoke,
Women shed tears, the children shriek.
[...] Read more
poem by Khristo Botev
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Fall Omen
Twinkling,
when even the day
is shrinking,
and the sun declines
in the fold of the mountains,
belches out quietly
the fall flame from
the cornfield,
where the raven
is only
the fingers of a plough.
--
original:
Е с е н н а п о л и ч б а
В м и г ,
к о г а т о и д е н я т
с е с в и в а ,
и с л ъ н ц е т о з а м и р а
[...] Read more
poem by Bozhidar Pangelov
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A Disability Inside A Rustic Room...
someone writes about
a rebellion, a struggle of a set of native still not free
even in this age of
a shrinking world
where everything seems to be a text away
or that distance
which curls and tells you
they are all there and happy in green
and white
hands in prayer and minds in peace
and mouths speaking about abundance and wellness
and paradise thriving in skyscrapers
and parks
someone writes about the death of civilians under
oppressive regimes
brought about by leaders who refuse to step down
or someone exposes the trafficking of women somewhere in southeast Asia
and brought in bulgaria or
a black island
[...] Read more
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Flair Of A Romance
A new environment,
A new life,
A new heaven!
The flair of a romance is what i bring to you;
Like a stair case full of hope.
The flair of a romance,
Walking up and down the stairs!
Listen to the joy of a muse that i bring to you.
Posit,
Tell me why?
love from the Blue River where,
All the fingers are not equal.
Of the romanti night with the plastic,
Of the true love that i share with you;
'Rickmer Rickmers', 'Cap San Diego' and 'James Caird I';
She gave me the apple and i ate it.
'Titanic', Santa Maria', 'Chesapeake' and 'Bulgaria';
All the days are not equal.
'Japanese Prince', Alte Liebe' and James Caird II';
[...] Read more
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Russian travel program
Every now and then
there are Russians
travelling to foreign countries
standing in lines
at aeroplanes and vehicles
to on government command
take a return trip without cost:
In 1932 it was right through Siberia
into Mongolia
with excursions through the country side
to look at the wall of China.
In 1939 together with some German friends
they visited Poland
and the old town square in Warsaw,
looked at the armour
of the Teutonic knight Sigsmund II
and the cathedral of St. John.
[...] Read more
poem by Gert Strydom
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Nationalistic Catastrophe International? No!
“In New Zealand potential equals people
proven source of future prosperity.
In Turkey rapidly expanding masses
within relatively limited (cityscape) land mass.”
Is political polar fractions force
of possible social degeneration.
Environmental and economic ruination
and potentially nationalistic annihilation.
Borders bound by troubled nations
potent potential threat dividing within.
Terrorist independence Islamic militant
Tear politically at hearts exposed neck.
Eurasian country Anatolian peninsula
in Western Asia Eastern Thrace
southeastern Europe bordering eight countries:
[...] Read more
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Diplomatic Platypus
I had a duck-billed platypus when I was up at Trinity,
With whom I soon discovered a remarkable affinity.
He used to live in lodgings with myself and Arthur Purvis,
And we all went up together for the Diplomatic Service.
I had a certain confidence, I own, in his ability,
He mastered all the subjects with remarkable facility;
And Purvis, though more dubious, agreed that he was clever,
But no one else imagined he had any chance whatever.
I failed to pass the interview, the board with wry grimaces
Took exception to my boots and then objected to my braces,
And Purvis too was failed by an intolerant examiner
Who said he had his doubts as to his sock-suspender's stamina.
Our summary rejection, though we took it with urbanity
Was naturally wounding in some measure to our vanity;
The bitterness of failure was considerably mollified,
However, by the ease with which our platypus had qualified.
The wisdom of the choice, it soon appeared, was undeniable;
There never was a diplomat more thoroughly reliable.
He never made rash statements his enemies might hold him to,
He never stated anything, for no one ever told him to,
[...] Read more
poem by Patrick Barrington
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Merry Christmas From Around The World
Afrikaans: Gesëende Kersfees
Afrikander: Een Plesierige Kerfees
African/ Eritrean/ Tigrinja: Rehus-Beal-Ledeats
Albanian: Gezur Krislinjden
Arabic: Idah Saidan Wa Sanah Jadidah
Argentine: Feliz Navidad
Armenian: Shenoraavor Nor Dari yev Pari Gaghand
Azeri: Tezze Iliniz Yahsi Olsun
Bahasa Malaysia: Selamat Hari Natal
Basque: Zorionak eta Urte Berri On!
[...] Read more
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Booger McNulty and Me
In 1948 Booger McNulty's coal yard stirred
constant gossip among the citizens who lived
in little bungalows on narrow blocks
in my far corner of Chicago.
That was more than 60 years ago,
a time when families took Sunday walks
and went back home in time to hear
Jack Benny on the radio.
A Sunday walk didn't cost a cent,
a price my parents could afford.
When my parents took a Sunday walk,
my sister and I always had to go along,
and every time we'd pass Booger's place,
I'd hear my mother ask my father
what could possibly be on the other side
of Booger's 10-foot fence.
Hoping to avoid a conversation,
my father always said he didn't know
[...] Read more
poem by Donal Mahoney
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