Where Is My Spring?

Pavel Tomov's poetry is in entity deeply Bulgarian, yet universal by vision and scope. The poems in this book are strewn thirty years apart, though it's hard to see any gradation. There are no periods and evolving technicalities. Ecstasy and despair, pessimism and optimism, obedience and sedition coexist quite well in the author's poetic tolerance. If our Creator created a world of mysterious dichotomy, Pavel willingly incorporates it. His judgment is never lofty ...