MIROSLAV TICAR ANOTHER PEACE AND LOVE POET FROM SLOVENIA

BIODATA OF MIROSLAV TICAR

Miroslav Tičar was born inin1960 in lovely village Malo Mraševo in Slovenia. As human and poet we can describe him as researcher of love. His interest is mainly on lack
of love and where it comes from. Seeking for the answer on the universal questions and reveal some hidden vales. There is no seeking for the final answer but the
journey through the fillings and expressions. When you arrive across there is still the way over it. He published two books of poems, “Popotnik” and “Tam preko in
čez” The last one is in two languages, Slovenian and Croatian. His poems are published in many joint collection of poems across Slovenia, Croatia, Montenegro,
Serbia. Not long-ago publisher Sanje has published book “Tao Te Ching”, translation of wisdom from Lao Tse along with comments and afterword by the author Miroslav Tičar.
He has organized many poetry gathering. Just to mention few of them, “Gathering in Kostanjevica”, “Salute to the sun” and “Magic words

MIROSLAV TICAR

POEJIZA BREZ VINA

Med drevesi
nihajo trebušasti oblaki
v ritmu
violine in harmonike
in se dotikajo
besed ugašajočega večera
blede besede
ne presežejo intelekta
poezija vedno izgublja proti množici
v dotiku mraka
se rojevajo poetične note
vino popijeva
Post festum
da poplakneva
grenkobo časa

  POETRY WITHOUT WINE

Among the trees
there is a swinging of bellied clouds
in rhythm
of violine and accordion
with touching
the words of a dying evening.
Pale words
has not surpass the intellect.
Poetry always loses against the crowd.
In touch with darkness
poetry notes are born.
Wine, we drink
Post festum
to rinse
the bitterness of time.

  IMPRESIJA
Tiha jesen odnaša toplino.
Umirja nas s svojim šepetom.
Daleč je objem poletja.
Visoki so nemirni hrasti.
Breze se odločajo med rdečo in rjavo obleko.
List se dokončno preda, ko pade na tla.
Sedaj postaja del nove celote
in se vrača v zakoreninjeno življenje.
Nekdo je na vrata dal nov zapah.

  POT SEM

Pomlad me napolni z rimami,
zato verzom kradem mir.
V žepno izdajo sebe se spravim
in sem vesel, ko sadim krompir.
Moj večer je takšen,
da ga zložiš na nočno omarico.
Le tebi se včasih nasmejem,
ko me vprašaš,
kdo sem,
kam grem.
Veš, ni lahko,
ampak ti vseeno povem.
Sem krog, ki kroži
in sem pot, ki potuje.