The European Union now has own President, Foreign Minister, Parliament, Government, laws, codes, commissions, institutions, Justice, in one word, the European Union is now a huge state with own government system, and any relationships will treat outsiders as to-be-accepted new elements or as partner states, and any useless mirror structures in the member countries will either merge or will disappear.
The past period of twenty years during which Bulgaria was taken out of one economic block to be placed in another, retained most of the stable structures through instruments, manipulation, and people- some of them now criticized, persecuted, and substituted by the common law stating that the instruments and the performers may get criticized, never the aims and the already constructed.
It is part of the human nature to glee at mega projects- the smaller a person is, the greater the joy at a large conglomeration where the openings for that person’s personal welfare seem as many as mouse holes.
I almost now feel to be a European poet, and not someone ambitious coming from the economically retarded socialist block permeated with mentality inherited from numerous generations that lived under different ethnic and political yokes.
In line with the down-statement of fine Mediaeval Music and Drama coming to substitute Bulgaria’s confinement into Mediaeval Life Style, here is an old poem of mine of the time when the EU patchwork was being made out of what there was of achievement and ambition, resentment and historical dues, prospects and global standards, people to live on the earth and people to live on other planets, economies that had split to catch both the technical and the social aspects of development and innovation, countries separated for opposite projects to be implemented, and much more:
THE COMMON CITY
Now gaining the flavours common
to cities of its style and rank,
and posing the unsolved problem
of sameness as bleak as a blank
Adventurers who've passed its hard tests
have settled with adapted wings
The wise have saved their old treasures
unused and hidden from their needs
The young, escaping their background,
have made a leap to take the lead
And only 'fore the weather's riots
a jaw is clenched, or braced the wings
The city, colourful, in plenty,
its head adorned, its feet concealed
A common city, one in many,
in its rock-chair wakeful sleeps
V.P.T.
V.P.Toucheva 20.11.2009 Sofia, Bulgaria, EU
