• 
  

Iris Calif 

 Photography Combined Vith Painting: The Artist Zehava Neter

Model: Iris Calif

Iris Calif, Resident of the State of Israel, poet, writer, translator of poetry (to Hebrew) and dancer. Iris is also in charge of all foreign connection for the cultural and literature internet magazine "in direction of the wind",  editor and translator Universal Poetry at "Mokasini" Magazine Culture & Lifestyle Magazine, Editor and translator in the "World Poetry" of the literature website "Rooms".

​

member of the Composers' Association of Hebrew authors and publishers in Israel named “ ACUM. Iris is Award Winner of 2023: The International Best Poets & POETS: THE JOURNAL OF RENDITION OF INTERNATIONAL POETRY (ITRC)[Multilingual] [China]

The Board of Directors of World Union of Poetry Magazines

November 18, 2023.

Iris was awarded a diploma from "The Russian Professional Writers Union" and the international magazine "Arina NN", registered in the Ministry of Culture of Russia for her contribution to world culture "International Poetic Community" 2022, She is the head of the Israeli liaison department of the Hong Kong Literature and Arts Magazine.

and a member of the Association of artists and writers of the World SAPS

Iris is also serve on the editorial board of the World Poetry Yearbook 2024 (English edition)

She holds an honorary doctorate from the International Forum for Creativity, Humanity and Coexistence, Kingdom of Morocco.

​

Iris is 49 years old: married and mother of three daughters.

Her three books were publisher:

In a fascinating (or magic) lane breathes (or blows) Lolita on On 2001

Wild moon on 2017, And The daughter of GOD on 2020.

She is currently working on her fourth book of scripture.

​

Her poems have been published on radio, television, magazines in Israel and abroad, literary websites in Israel and around the world Exhibited in Exhibited in prestigious exhibitions in Israel, the Internet and newspapers international, and have been translated by international poets into Spanish, Bengali, Chinese, Russian Albanian, Turkish, Nepali, Arabic Assamese and Italian

Her poetry reflects the inner journey of her soul, which looks through love, dreams life, and breathes holy worlds, in the hidden spirit, and is a symbol and expression of her victory over Anorexia, and her choice of choosing life and love with courage.

 "THE VOICE OF THE NILE ANGELS CARRYING THE GOD DOVE OF MY SPIRIT BODY"

IRIS CALIF  

THE IRIS; A HUMAN UNIVERSAL FLOWER "

DAUGHTER 0F HEAVEN SPIRIT DOVE OF THE ETERNAL LAND OF PEACE LIVING"- IRIS CALIF 

God

King of the Angels of the Worlds 

Our Father in Heaven

           Brave Yaakov

       Lord of all deeds   Lord of the all land 

  In the halo light of the Nile Angels   

      The night crowns his eyes  

God's bearing my body in front of the virtue of the hidden fire of the royal Moon 

And in the creation of my heart a spirit of love is written

Blessings of the daughter of God

Nude writing lyrical holy poets

Touching A vertical stack of sacred hymns 

Kissing in front of heavenly things in paradise

       And in the "Bible" that speaks of the honegcomb offering

     The sun pours out lovers

        A living soul grows

      Holy Silence kneels 

       An incarnation of an essential melody

The voice of my soul is buried in the dripstone of God

         And it shall be called the splendid rain of the heavens

       Of my poem And the Allowed in land

  And in the fields of everlasting blossom 

  I'm the Iris a human universal flower

Daughter of God

The Daughter of Jerusalem of love

Daughter of Human

  Daughter of Eve

 Daughter of Isaac and Maria  

Daughter of the sun

Daughter of the moon

Daughter of the stars

Daughter of the land

 Daughter of the worlds

Daughter of life

    Daughter of the heaven spirit dove of the eternal land of the peace living

'All rights reserved to poet Iris Calif '

SPARKING WATER – IRIS CALIF

The Angel of the night wraps in his wings the universe of our love
My torn body in the rope of world silence breaks through its gates
And in my sanctity of my lips

Sparkling Water

My Love
To the stream of your existence, I am creator of my desire
In the rain caressing of the iris simulates your breaths
Naked in the passion urge of the Heaven raises your clouds
Cipher in your life

Spirit of my souls

Rana Moqtader 

  ‏ My eyes....

Before his look of boredom and laziness 

The window trembles 

The well enquired slips

In the middle of the cold

In the darkness of a miserable day

The order of destruction

 Between the diagonal fingers of the vortex

 From the mouth of hell is passed

The sorrowful hours are spinning on the left hand of the world

The dim light sticks to the glass on the globe

And you say to a sigh, 

Why do you always cry because you miss the window?

The wind of patience makes holes in the window

In the isolation of the room and stops due to its lacking

Not being in diffusion 

But I will be scattered like a tree 

That has lost all its fruit 

At the unkind hands of the axe

It is the shoulder of the needy that carries the night and carries the morning

And all his taste ends in the look of a crisp tree branch

And doesn’t let the minutes be more accurate

And the flowers may burn in the vase of life

The branches are not splashed from any night

So that the god of moon does not suffer gloom

Because inside the empty shirt is the smell of a woman's hands

Whose dream was seen

So, come and with your gentle, warm and passionate hands

Step onto my eyes 

So that I may be saved from the rhyme of the devilry of night

As the high hands and reading of Qunoot

In the blue lotus sky

Have not proved to be of any use. 

#Rena _ Moqtadar

Translated by :

Khan Hasnain Aaqib

India 

********** 

 چشمم....

روی نگاه کسالت اور 

پنجره می لغزد

لیزهای پژوهیده 

میان هجوم سرما 

درتیره روزی معذب 

فرمان نابودی  را از دهن دوزخ 

درمیان انگشتان مورب گرداب 

صادر میکند 

ساعات ملال آوردردست چپ دنیا میچرخد 

نور مبهم روی کره خاکی به شیشه می چسپد 

وبه آه میگویید که چرا همیشه ازحسرت پنجره اشک میریزدو

باد شکیبایی پنجره را سوراخ سوراخ میسازد

در انزوا اتاق و

دست بر میدارد  از فقدان از

نبودن درانتشار

واما من پاشیده می شوم شبیه درختی که   همه حاصلش را دربرابر  دستان نامهربان و خصیص تبر ازدست داده و به

شانه ی محتاجست  که شب را درنوردد وصبح را به بدوش کشد

وهمه سلیقه اش تمام شود در نگاه شاخه ترد درختی

و نگذارد که

دقایق دق تر شوند 

وگیسوان گل درگلدان زندگی بسوزد

وشاخه ها ازهیچ شبی شتک نخورد

تا خدای ماه رنجور نشود

چون که درون پیراهن خالی اوهنوزبوی دست زنی است

که خوابش را  دیده 

پس بیابادستان لطیف وگرم وشیفته ات  روی چشمانم قدم بگذار

تا از قافیه فتنه ی شب نجات یابم چون 

ازدستان بلند وخوانش قنوت 

در آسمان آبی نیلوفری 

هرگز کاری ساخته نیست. 

#رنا _مقتدر

 PENSANDO. 

Glória Pereira!

Eu pensei onde vive o amor? 

As vezes precisamos pegar somente na mão e dizer estou aqui. 

Meu olhar distante é em.busca de resposta que eu não ganhei...

Simplesmente fui jogada em um  canto. 

O tempo passou formou-se grandes encantos em minha volta. Descobri que o amor tem que ser amar-se primeiro. 

Assim  hoje  estou liberta das amarguras. 

Não sou mais  uma jovem ingênua. 

Trago comigo  um grande amor !

Glória Pereira!.

Direitos autorais reservados Autora/Escritora

 Título

LIBRO DE PIEL

Autora 

Alondra Gutiérrez Vargas

País

Costa Rica

Libro de piel que tiembla vibrante.

Hojas perladas de luces brillantes, titilantes de rocios ancestrales, amasando cadenas que no son mi dolor.

Angustia de parto en cada hoja perlada

que cuenta sin tinta los destinos...

Igual que la historia que busca velas encendidas, para no estar muerta en páramos de olvido.

Si están muertas...

¿Entonces ya no piensan en nada?

Pero no es cierto. ¡sus voces están pidiendo justicia desde el átomo y la tierra ensangrentada!

Hay hombres que son puñales de muerte. Tienen conciencia, tienen alma, pero ambas están dormidas.

Donde se calla el silencio...

Se mutila el espíritu igual que este reclamo que mi ser proclama.

El cuerpo se desgrana, igual como fue masacrada esta piel tan mía.

Antes yo bebía luces de estrellas,

bajaba la luna con el canto mío.

El agresor es como tu amor sacrificando los sueños míos.

Primero me engañaste con flores, tulipanes, rosas y asucenas.

Quien diría que todas ellas serían para mi Sepelio, dictando mi condena.

Quien diría que mis amigas están muertas y que yo sigo viva.

¡Mentiroso, a mi me dejaste muerta en vida, mientras hablabas con elocuencia.

Susurrabas te amo a mi oído, besabas mi mejilla...me arrancaste el corazón desde adentro...

¡Me quitaste la piel, me anulaste la vida!

Me llevaste a un lugar donde los huesos agonizan.

Yo no tengo odio ni venganza, mis labios no están llenos de perdones.

Desde cualquier universo...

 Exijo justicia.

Puedes ahorrarte las palabras...

Porque matar a una mujer no tiene justificaciones.

 [29/04, 16:13] A L O N D R A "Artista": Asucenas

[29/04, 16:16] A L O N D R A "Artista": Qualification

SKIN BOOK

Author

Alondra Gutierrez Vargas

Country

Costa Rica

Vibrant trembling skin book.

Pearly leaves of brilliant lights, flickering with ancestral dews, kneading chains that are not my pain.

Anguish of childbirth in each pearly leaf

that tells the destinations without ink...

Just like the story that looks for lit candles, so as not to be dead in wastelands of oblivion.

If they are dead...

So you don't think about anything anymore?

But it's not true. Their voices are calling for justice from the atom and the bloody earth!

There are men who are daggers of death. They have conscience, they have soul, but both are asleep.

Where the silence is silent...

The spirit is mutilated just like this claim that my being proclaims.

The body is torn apart, just as this skin, so mine, was massacred.

Before I drank starlight,

The moon went down with my song.

The aggressor is like your love sacrificing my dreams.

First you fooled me with flowers, tulips, roses and ascennas.

Who would have thought that all of them would be for my Burial, dictating my sentence.

Who would have thought that my friends are dead and that I am still alive.

Liar, you left me dead while you spoke eloquently.

You whispered I love you in my ear, you kissed my cheek... you ripped my heart out from the inside...

You took away my skin, you annulled my life!

You took me to a place where the bones agonize.

I have no hatred or revenge, my lips are not full of forgiveness.

From any universe...

 I demand justice.

You can save the words...

Because killing a woman has no justifications.

 Título

LIBRO DE PIEL

Autora 

Alondra Gutiérrez Vargas 

País

Costa Rica

Libro de piel que tiembla vibrante.

Hojas perladas de luces brillantes, titilantes de rocios ancestrales, amasando cadenas que no son mi dolor.

Angustia de parto en cada hoja perlada

que cuenta sin tinta los destinos...

Igual que la historia que busca velas encendidas, para no estar muerta en páramos de olvido.

Si están muertas...

¿Entonces ya no piensan en nada?

Pero no es cierto. ¡sus voces están pidiendo justicia desde el átomo y la tierra ensangrentada!

Hay hombres que son puñales de muerte. Tienen conciencia, tienen alma, pero ambas están dormidas.

Donde se calla el silencio...

Se mutila el espíritu igual que este reclamo que mi ser proclama.

El cuerpo se desgrana, igual como fue masacrada esta piel tan mía.

Antes yo bebía luces de estrellas,

bajaba la luna con el canto mío.

El agresor es como tu amor sacrificando los sueños míos.

Primero me engañaste con flores, tulipanes, rosas y asusenas.

Quien diría que todas ellas serían para mi cepelio, dictando mi condena.

Quien diría que mis amigas están muertas y que yo sigo viva.

¡Mentiroso, a mi me dejaste muerta en vida, mientras hablabas con elocuencia.

Susurrabas te amo a mi oído, besabas mi mejilla...me arrancaste el corazón desde adentro...

¡Me quitaste la piel, me anulaste la vida!

Me llevaste a un lugar donde los huesos agonizan.

Yo no tengo odio ni venganza, mis labios no están llenos de perdones.

Desde cualquier universo...

 Exijo justicia.

Puedes ahorrarte las palabras...

Porque matar a una mujer no tiene justificaciones.

Alondra Gutiérrez Vargas cantautora y poetisa humanista costarricense 

Guss Quiróz Manager Editor 

Isis Gutierrez Director 

Marco Leandro Periodista 

Christian Ariel diseño gráfico

 

Kokul ‘al Qutzalcóatl

Estrellas de vida

Concédeme la libertad de expresarte 

mi sentir, que se desprende de la odisea,

de quemarme con el cielo…

Te observo, mi luna hermosa,

deslumbrante, ¡cuando no hay estrellas!

En esta silenciosa noche el firmamento es un yermo

y en medio de la nada allí estás tú, luna,

sonriente, enamorada del río de estrellas

que ahora, se han mudado a la tierra.

¡Oh, inmenso grial de vida!

¡Tu luz no ha de opacar al cielo!,

porque el reino es de los que saben amar

porque el reino es el cielo en la corona del monte,

aun, cuando la distancia sea larga.

¡Oh, agua sagrada!, recorres mundos intangibles,

afloras en el momento preciso 

para dar la paz en plenitud, 

para ser amor eterno,

para convertir desiertos, en edenes.

Gloria Rios Ayzú

(Kokul ‘al Qutzalcóatl)