I was born in ex-Yugoslavia in Sarajevo, the capital of present Bosnia and Herzegovina, on February 10, 1953 to Slovenian parents. My father was a psychiatrist and my mother was the director of the then biggest Yugoslav factory.
As doctors were very much on the move at that time, so we had to move to our homeland Slovenia, where I finished my elementary school and high school.
I concentrated on learning foreign languages, so I am fluent in English and French, and can well understand and read German and Italian, as well as Serbian, Croatian and Bosnian.
I married young. I was 20 at that time. I have three grown up children, a son and two daughters, and 6 grandchildren.
So after high school, I started working and was employed for 35 years. Before retirement, I also worked for the Chief of Mission of UNHCR during the war in Bosnia and was involved in resettling refugees in Slovenia, coming from military zones.
I was a volunteer too and last year I worked as a volunteer in an orphanage in Senegal, West Africa.
From the last 15 years, I am involved in my handcraft, producing hand made hangings with modelling material on wooden boards, representing Slovenian peasant women, images for children’s stories, signs for rooms and home decoration with a soft vintage style.
I started writing poems in a high school and writing them is somehow a red thread of my life. I’ve published in different newspapers, and also participated in several contests, where I even won several times.
I published two books of poetry. The first is called A BIT OF A NOSTALGY, BUT NOT TO MUCH and a second one THE STARS IN THE BASEMENT. Therefore, I am also a member of the Slovenian Writers Association.
I write simple, in a fluent way, no big letters, no initials, no comas, no dots. It is like talking and whispering and loud laughing with my best friend. I use simple, funny, shiny and sunny words. When a poem meets me, it comes like a small demanding tsunami and I must instantly sit down and take the first piece of paper, be it a napkin in a restaurant or an electricity bill.
I let it rest for some days to settle down and to find the smoothest way for the words to run softly and fluently, no interruption, no pause.
The subject of my poems is always love. Let it be the love for small spring flowers, a baby, homeland, a friend or a man. My religion is peace and love and this shines through my poetry.
Since I have travelled a lot which has made me a very adaptable person with a lot of imagination, I can easily imagine a beautiful Kashmir which unfortunately I never visited. Also, being married to a Palestinian, the late father of my children, I can very well understand the situation in the bleeding Kashmir. I always say like Palestine, Kashmir has been suffering for more than 70 years now.
I am so sorry to see the bad present situation in Kashmir, but hoping with all my heart it will get better for the people living in this beautiful region.
With so many similarities with my country, it was easy to imagine Srinagar and Dal lake and all the rest. I am a very curious person and was exploring a lot about Kashmir. Also, sharing information and pictures with my Kashmiri social media friends helped a lot.
My country Slovenia, is a small Central European country, bordering Italy, Austria, Hungary and Croatia, is so similar to yours. Like Kashmir, my homeland has high mountains, beautiful lakes and rivers, gorgeous nature and flowers, interesting people, good food. Just everything is pretty.
We were the part of ex-Yugoslavia before, and our people also fought for independence. Now we are a new country since 1991, quite young, so much is to be done.
Because of so much similarity between our homes, I feel very much connected to Kashmir.
So…. What is the reason that I wrote this song….. it’s love.
Love for your beautiful Kashmir, the nostalgy to see sun bathing Dal lake and the rest…. The rest …… I simply cannot tell everything.
As a poet, sometimes I win in poetry contests, so I have some rewards too. This year I decided to participate again, with the poem named THE ROMANCE IN KASHMIR:
with the southern wind
a spring came
and a summer
this time with her
and staying together
in an old wooden boat
on the lake
so smooth as a mirror
for the vain clouds
and rainbow colours
of woolen scarfs
made from the domestic goats
but also with a honey laugh
the ember in the kangri basket
and in his eyes
whispering in her bent neck
you are my heart beat
you are in my blood
they baked small sausages
and soft flat girda breads
with hot and salty nun chai
in the outskirts
of the village
she learned how to make
with an old man
hair hidden under
the rainbow woollen scarf
from domestic goats
there was an unbelievable
amount of snow
closing all of mountain passes
in long evenings
he unfolded her hair
in her bent neck
you are my heart beat
you are in my blood
sometimes he coloured
with wide spread brush
until the snow
at that time
the first waves
danced on a mirror
smooth dal lake
Like this story? Producing quality journalism costs. Make a Donation & help keep our work going.