Thursday 4 February 2021

Five Poems by Francisc Edmund Balogh




The night was often sighing

while undressing, knowing

that my poem is peeking

from behind the curtain

of obscurity.

One day, this poem

will surely leave it’s home-

my heart – to become an

ever wandering, haunting echo

of the night.

Then me and you will sit

shoulder to shoulder,

cheek to cheek

like two elders, thrilled,

touched by „ how beautiful

they are together”

these young lovers:

the night and the poem.


The skyscraper of silence


We built a skyscraper of silence,

down there  the  streets –

wrinkles on the face of the earth –

down there

all the things having

the size and the meaning of

a bug life,

heartbeats speeding through

the flesh of stillness

like some  self-explanatory

bird flights,

memories budding

inside the hourglass of love.


We built a skyscraper of silence,

one of us forgot to close

the window of melancholy,

verses poured in

ambushing us to tears of remorse.


We built a skyscraper of silence

within the poems.




The night pulled it's curtain of quiet.


All the things were placed back into the magician's hat .


Us too, two halves of a walnut wrapped under the shell of darkness.


Love seemed the reflection of a firefly,

a ray  of moonshine blooming inside this dreamy bubble.


The stars do not ask questions, do not tell stories, do not sing lullabies.


The dawn does not come on horseback.


Tomorrow we do not start a new chapter!!




Inside the narrow dug hole

of our communion of silence,

we walk barefooted

on the tight rope of the soul,

a tight rope of roses –

the border of wishes.


Don’t knock

on the door at the edge

of the world, peek through

the door sight,

the loneliness of eternity

entombed in a pearl

is falling  through the

ocean of darkness,

endlessly,  with the weight

of a feather.


The hat


The hat of my great grandfather

on the wall, holds the hand of time

tirelessly since countless seasons ago.

We place the hat at the table

as if he would still be there,

that was his wish.


Today a snail climbed on the hat,

circling within the rim.

Great Grandpa popped

into my mind saying:

" What a race!”

Time and us, the same way

circling within

God’s hat’s rim!



Francisc Edmund Balogh  is a Romanian poet, writer and musician -percussionist. He has mostly published poetry in various  literary magazines  across Romania.

In 2015 Francisc co-authored a  poetry book, „ Clarobscur și fum”  ( Misty haze and smoke) with Iulia Olaru. The book appeared bilingually and it received the title „ The translation of the year”. The poems were written in Romanian by both poets and translated by Francisc into Hungarian.

2020 is the year when Francisc’s success  grew at a different level. He was published in more than 10 anthologies across the country, one of the most important  being „Toamna Metaforelor”  ( The metaphors’ autumn) crafted by  „ Aspra” literary association.

Some of Francisc’s poems were translated and published in Germany in the „ Vort Vergessen” anthology and some in the French literary blog „ Lettres Capitales” .

Francisc also writes in English. With a selection of poems written in English, he won  first place at the 2020 L’ Olimpiade Mondiaux de Poesie competition.

Most recently Francisc published in India on the  Litterateur Rw literary blog, in the Poet magazine and One Hand Clapping from the UK.

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