Приходящий

Моя подруга сказала, что у нее сестра в Москве беременная. Я удивилась, так как, насколько мне известно, у нее парня нет.

- А кто отец? – я спросила у подруги.

- Приходящий – говорит она.

Вот так. Отец приходящий. Некоторые так живут.

Спосибо тебе, папочка, что когда ты мне нужен, вседга могу тебя найти дома.

Спосибо, что ты не приходящий.

Anyway

People are often unreasonable, Illogical,

and self-centered;

Forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you

of selfish, ulterior motives;

Be kind anyway.

If you are successful, You will win some

false friends and some true enemies;

Succeed anyway.

If you are honest and frank,

people may cheat you;

Be honest and frank anyway.

What you spend years building,

someone could destroy overnight;

Build anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness,

they may be jealous;

Be happy anyway.

The good you do today,

people will often forget tomorrow;

Do good anyway.

Give the world the best you have,

and it may never be enough;

Give the world the best you have anyway.

You see, in the final analysis,

it is between you and God;

It was never between you and them anyway.

Kent Keith

Най-красивата дума

“Някога” -
ето я най-красивата дума.
Някога -
означава минало
(смътен спомен).
Или бъдеще
(смътна мечта).
Някога -
означава минало!
Някога -
означава бъдеще!
И -
никога настояще!
Никога!
(Настоящето -
най-вулгарният миг в триединството!).

Благородна, дискретна, уютна -
“Някога!”.

Константин Павлов

Another innocent life lost

I was too shocked to write about this earlier, but it shattered me so deep that I simply need to put it down.

There is a cafe I visit every morning on the way to work. I have a cup of coffee and get my mind set on the tasks to fulfill during the day. It’s a kind of ritual. The waitress is a small thin woman about my age. As I’m a regular customer, we’ve grown quite close with her.

Las time I went there, she had just come back from a two-weeks’ leave. I thought she had been on holiday, but then I saw she was all dressed in black, her face rigid and pale, and an empty look in her eyes. She said her daughter had been killed in a car accident. The driver was an 18-year-old brat without a driving license. He drove at 120 kmph within the city and hit a road post. The back of the car, where the 13-year-old girl was sitting, was entirely cut off from the rest of the vehicle and she was catapulted and died on the very spot she hit the ground.

We drank our coffee and smoke in silence. What do you say to a mother who has lost her child?

My initial feeling of sorrow was suppressed by a mighty surge of fury. The mass media are brimming with stories of fatalities caused by careless or drunk driving and overspeeding. Concern has been raised over the huge number of casualties in road accidents. There has been a campaign involving celebrities to raise awareness in order to prevent tragedies on the road…

Nothong.

Brainless youngsters and powerful car owners take no heed at all. Hundreds have been killed or mutilated, the lives of numerous families deprived of meaning, having lost their loved ones…

Whatever words of comfort you try to offer, they make no difference. An innocent young being was violently wrenched out of this world. What we are left with is the desperate hope that at least she might have gone to a better place.

To my childhood friend

And there are days when
life rewards us
and seems to make amends
by granting us a marvelous gift,
the precious gift of Friends.

Every time life has been unfair to you I take it as my personal responsibility to alleviate the pressure and bring back the luminous smile on your face.

You fell in love with a younger man and everyone judged you mercilessly, but I was the one to encourage you to listen to your heart and strive for happiness.

I have shared your dreams and helped you overcome your fears.

I was there in your sorrow and have been blessed to witness your joy.

And because I have so permanently and indelibly integrated you into my own being, I think you owe me something - just never ever go away!

Just to let it out

As an interpreter I am frequently faced with the profound ignorance of those I am supposed to work for as far as the nature of my work is concerned.
Most people will readily assume that, once you have learned a language to the extent of relative fluency, you should experience no difficulty whatsoever transmitting the subtlest implications in their messages from one language to another, without even stopping to take a breath.
Some will allow themselves to ramble endlessly at meetings and discussions, while at the same time the interpreter is expected to somehow infer what was intended to be said, pick up the essence of it and manage to convey it in a smooth, well-organized, logical speech. If some ambiguity or misunderstanding arises, however, those are invariably blamed on inaccuracy of interpretation, but never ensuing from the speakers’ inadequate communication skills or lack of ability to express themselves succinctly. I did not realize the utterance of formidable amounts of words might actually be void of meaning and lead to nothing until I started doing this job.
You might think your money is well deserved, but that’s not what employers think after all. They tend to believe that you speak the foreing language and make yourlself understood anyway, so you can hardly call it work. All you do is have a great time practising because it just comes naturally to you. As a result, your efforts are bound to be underestimated and, therefore, underpaid.
My recent experience with my female boss just comes as an illustration of the aforementioned. After several ours of interpreting some exhausting and fruitless negotiations, I was told it would be of great help if I could take notes during such meetings, so that I could later prepare the minutes as well. Needless to say, she was surprised at my shock at such an intelligent suggestion. She had imagined it far from being impossible to follow the conversation carefully, interpret what is being said, formulate it in a meaningful way in the foreign language and keep taking notes. All simultaneously! Why not, ah?

Paura

  Non della morte, ma

della metamorfosi

- accettare di privarsi di sé

come acqua che si lasci versare

e prende forma da ciò che la contiene

e corre via - e l’assorbe la terra

ed è e non è più - senza pena, forse

eppure non va persa.

Lenta, arrischiata

ogni cosa matura

per un attimo

di colma beatitudine

poi trabocca

come l’acqua di un vaso

fugge la pienezza.

 

Donatella Bisutti

Crisis at work

Have you noticed how people reveal their real character during a period of crisis?

In times of trouble when everyone is put to trial you can find out who you could really count on and who the traitors are.

The company I work for is currently in a difficult situation, making serious loss, and the managers are trying to find a solution through undertaking an acquisition by a large foreign company. It comes as no surprise, in a country like ours, that formalities have taken too much time, going through all the procedures has proved tedious, and this long period of hopeful expectations of the unknown has made everyone’s nerves stand on edge. Staff salaries have been frozen for an indefinite period of time, taking no account of the rapid inflation, until the deal has been finalized and the new board of directors has made their major decisions.

So, you can imagine the whole atmosphere. People feel insecure about their positions and uncertain about the company’s future in general. The worst of all, however, is that there is little to do and, having plenty of time on their hands to indulge in gossiping and speculating about who is valuable to the company and who is not, most employees display all their malice and avidity, thus contributing to an even unhealthier working environment.

Yesterday morning I met a colleague on the way to work and, as we were walking together, she couldn’t help complaining about how disappointed she was with her co-worker who she has known for many years. It is very untypical of this quiet and reserved woman to speak against others. I could feel the pain and disappointment in her voice. And the fact that she felt the need to confide in someone is strong enough evidence for me that the situation has become unbearable even for the most patient and benevolent.

And, of course, the incompetent management and negligent attitude to the employees add to the picture. None of the managers seems to consider human resource the most important asset of business. People are leaving and none of them seems to care. They accept resignations without the slightest sign of regret and demonstrate a total lack of interest or intention to try and stop the employees from quitting.

All this is extremely discouraging and is gradually killing my enthusiasm to work.

Талантът

Онази въздушна целувка от Господ, еднократният подарък от съдбата, който някои получават. Странното и случайно съчетание на гените. Онова, което усещат само онези, които го нямат. Талантът е онова, което не зависи нито от броя прочетени книги, нито от образованието, нито от възпитанието… Защото не го носим във виртуозните си пръсти или в ангелския си глас. Не се намира в главата ни или в сърцето ни. Талантът обитава единствено душата ни.

А душата ни? Душата ни е много проветриво място. Влияе се от слава, от пари и най-вече от суетата. Когато не се вземаш на сериозно, талантът се чувства комфортно в душата ти. Расте и обитава мислите ти, без да се притеснява, че ще го притискаш, форсираш или разголваш, прави живота ти по-различен, по-цветен, по-интересен и те учи да живееш. Талантът е като децата - бунтува се и боледува в детството си и ако му осигуриш нужното спокойствие и търпение, ти се отблагодарява точно като тях - пораства здрав и сигурен в себе си. Важното е да не се вземаш много на сериозно и да пазиш душата си от щети. Щети като амбициите например. Като надценяването, като бутането с лакти. Талантът е крехка материя, пере се ръчно и със студена вода. И се внимава. Ама много.

Анна Свиларова

Сън за щастие

“Шляпам боса в тъмната къща около прозорците и гледам силуетите на дърветата в гората. След мъничко ще се върна в леглото. Раменете ми ще потреперят от нощния студ. Ще погледам в тъмнината, очите ми ще се насълзят за десетки минали, сегашни и бъдещи болки. Ще почувствам цялата самота на света, седнала като 100-килограмов човек на гърдите ми. Но няма да мога да се разплача от товара. За кое по-напред. Сигурно ще заспя с мислите си и ще ги сънувам. Старата снимка с черешите. Усмивките ни. Баба ми с онази прическа. Детството ми, събрано в един-единствен сън. Сън за щастие.”

Анна Свиларова