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Sabahudin Hadžialić

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His poetry and prose were translated into English, French, German, Spanish, Italian and Albanian.He was the co- owner is the first private newspaper in SR BiH "POTEZ", Bugojno, Bosnia and Herzegovina - 1990. So far he has published ten books of poetry and prose.


Sabahudin Hadžialić was born 23.9.1960.g. in Mostar, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Europe.
Today he is a member of the Bosnia and Herzegovina Association of Writers (Sarajevo, BiH), Croatian writers association Herzeg Bosnia (Mostar, BiH) and Association of writers Serbia (Belgrad, Serbia) , Academy “Ivo Andrić” (Belgrade, Serbia) and Journalists Association of Bosnia and Herzegovina and Ambassador of POETAS del MUNDO in Bosnia and Herzegovina.
He is Editor in chief of  the electronic and print magazine "DIOGEN" pro culture: http://diogen.weebly.com and Editor in chief of  E –magazine MaxMinus: http://maxminus.weebly.com from Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina. 
He has the status of the independent and self-sustained artist in the Canton of Sarajevo. He writes poetry and prose with the editing and reviewing books of other authors. 
He is freelance editor in the publishing house Dhira, Küsnacht, Switzerland. He  published poems, articles, essays, aphorisms, plays and short stories in almost all major newspapers & magazines in Bosnia-Herzegovina, Serbia, Croatia, Slovenia, Macedonia. His poems, short stories and aphorisms have been published in journals in England, Ireland, Spain, Italy and USA. 
His poetry and prose were translated into English, French, German, Spanish, Italian and Albanian. 
He was the co- owner is the first private newspaper in SR BiH "POTEZ", Bugojno, Bosnia and Herzegovina - 1990.
So far he has published ten books of poetry and prose. 
He published four  books internationally: Book of poetry in France 1998 (French language),  Book of aphorisms in Italy (Italian language), Book of poetry “Beggars of mind” (published in BiH back in 2003.) in Switzerland (German language) and “Selected poems” book of poetry (in Englsih, German, Italian, Albanian, Spanish and French language). His art work has been included in anthologies of poetry in France, Canada and Bosnia and Herzegovina, and in the Anthology of satire of Bosnia and Herzegovina and of Balkans. He has won several awards among which are  the best: "May pen" for the best young poet of former Yugoslavia in 1987 (Svetozarevo) and Award of Academy "Ivo Andric" (Belgrade) for 2011. He lives in Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina.  
2011/12: Within the preparation are…  
The novel (trilogy "CROSSROADS OF THE WORLDS").
Official www: http://sabihadzi.weebly.com 


(Translated into English by Neotkani Sizif )

By  Sabahudin Hadžialić
I call out her name
at night
while she is asleep.
The reflexion of probability
is out of grasp
of my mortal soul
spun a yarn
from a molten core.
My core!
I call out her name
at dawn,
while she is asleep.
She is strong in her
while she lolls
on the tombstone
in the graveyard

Hands buried in sand
Blood stained hands.
I try to reach the bottom of the sand pit
digging deep,
feeling pain.
Two blue eyes
deep dive
towards you.
Blood shot eyes.
Carried on the wave of desperate tears,
I try to catch a glimpse of you,
you disappeared behind a horizon.
Alas !
You drew near, furtively
and embraced
The World !
Envy and malice
feed on
my mistakes.
I try to understand
what they are
painlessly looking for
the collectiveness
of my  being.
I don’t understand
that without pain
 there is no life
let alone…..
Dismal image
of my own imprint in time
that’s real
inside  the vision that-  isn’t,
is desperately in search for
Her !
Queen Elizabeth,
 Chatherine, Nikolajevna,
Princess Dianna,
Disappear in front of the eyes
of wild hordes.
I remain alone
trembling with trepidation
trying to figure out
what is it that they want.
 Virtual reality of a surreal film-world
is nothing more than
a treacherous impersonation of a real world
that deceives me
a Servile Servant !
She’s gone !
Will she ever come back ?
The question is swept by the wind.
I’ll wait for the storm to calm
and try to catch the mistral wind to find a cove,
and search for the place where I met her.
Barefoot and naked.
Back in the day.
On the stage !
In a flash
brought about enormous pain
he realised
that in her
he recognised
of himself.
TO BE MYSELF now and here
Reflection in the mirror
… Runs away from me…
Reflection in the mirror
…Remans within my sight…
I hang on. Here
Dissolved. By hope.
of the moments of destiny
in my dreams.
I really don’t know
why  this title ?
When I want
to say something completely opposite
aiming to speak of
 unheard of,
At least today,
now and here.
Elite culture
is nothing else but
the wish of marginalised people
to establish the rule of impossible
in this corner of the world.
Let them live with it.
 Off I go the soul-brothel
I’m off to the pub !
“I don’t know if I can survive
the night,
another one in the string
of my hopes
because tomorrow is never going to come
 and it is interminably
Through my disappearance
from this life,
without the people.
You ask too much
and dream too little.
Of Whom?
Neither of you or me”
An Ink said to a Pen.
The balcony was where
it always used to be.
High above me.
There was no light.
Just a flash,

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