On 06. 10. 1960, the poet Nikolay Liliev died. Nikolay Mihaylov Popivanov worked under this pseudonym. He was born on 26. 05. 1885 in Stara Zagora. He was orphaned early. He studied in his hometown, and later in Svishtov, where he graduated from the Commercial High School (1903). He studied literature in Lausanne (1905-1906), commerce in Paris (1909-1912). He worked as a teacher in Sofia, Plovdiv and Svishtov, and for some time was a clerk.
He first published poems in 1905 in "Bulgaran". He collaborated on a number of literary and humorous publications - "Democratic Review", "Osa", "Savremennik", "Nash Zhivot", "Zveno", "Vezni"... Co-editor of the magazine "Zlatorog". A representative figure of symbolism in Bulgarian poetry, he is the author of the poetry collections "Birds in the Night" (1918), "Moon Spots" (1922), "Poems" (1932). In 1934 he wrote his last cycle of poems "By the Sea". With contributions to Bulgarian theatrical culture and stage speech, translator and author of studies, portraits and memories of Bulgarian and foreign writers and theatergoers.
During the First World War he was a private and correspondent. After the war he worked in various departments and editorial offices. Abroad, together with Nikola Mihov, he prepared a comprehensive bibliography on Bulgarian economic life. He was a playwright at the National Theater in the period 1924-1928 and 1934-1960. Between the two world wars he was a French language teacher at the Higher School of Commerce in Varna (1932-1934).
To the readers of FACTS we offer two of Nikolay Liliev's poems.
In the midst of the autumn desolation
In the midst of the autumn desolation
I am before you again, oh trees!
I carry your humility
and your dark skies.
Like your homeless leaves,
I extinguish sad and lonely,
and my dreams are pure,
and my tears are ruby.
I understand your deaf song,
and your nameless cry,
and a melancholy song breathes in me,
and a sorrowful twilight falls in me.
On my leafless branches
no grapes, no fruit,
and my sigh chases
suns into an unknown firmament.
And my homeless dreams
cry in the icy mists
and my past does not remember
the bow of lovers' arrows.
And I drink oblivion in silence
from every dew that gushed out.
In the midst of the autumn desolation
I am yours again, oh trees!
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The quiet spring rain
The quiet spring rain
rang above my eaves,
with the quiet spring rain
how many hopes have risen!
The quiet spring rain
the earth listens and trembles,
the quiet spring rain
whispers spring tales.
In the quiet spring rain rain
tears, delight and fear,
with the quiet spring rain
how many sparks poured out!