UzinaMarta

Há muitos anos tenho a intuição de que a qualquer hora iria encontrar o Sufi. Foi viajando pela Andaluzia na Espanha que entrei em contato com a poesia Sufi, em Cordoba, uma das cidades mais lindas que já vi... Desde lá, um poema ali, uma fala do Osho vez em quando, uma outra informação aqui e o Sufi vem entrando devagarzinho no meu mundo... Chegou a hora de uma conversa sobre isso. E ela vai rolar aqui no blog, rizomas com Fahredin Shehu, poeta, calígrafo, sufista, estudioso da cultura oriental, que vive em Pristina, capital do Kosovo. Vamos falar de poesia, caligrafia, Sufi, cultura árabe, paz, diferença e convivência étnica cultural etc. E vamos ter tradução para o português. Entrevistas curtas!!! Aos poucos, doesas homeopáticas...

Por enquanto, segue trecho de um artigo (muito longo, por isso não dá para publicar aqui) que Fahredin Shehu enviou sobre a SEMA, uma dança, a dança sufi, muito ligada aos nomes de Rumi e Osho. O texto é em italiano, mas muito fácil de compreender para todos nós, latinos!!!!!!!!


http://uzinamarta.blogspot.com/2010/12/devires-sufi-alegre-encontro-com.html

uZinaMarta: Fantástico poeta calígrafo artista completo Fahredin Shehu

uZinaMarta: Fantástico poeta calígrafo artista completo Fahredin Shehu

Nga UZINAMARTA- Brasil

You

You kiss my tear
And stamp my existence

I kiss you and melt
In God´s essence

Deployment of fathom

Master died all of sudden
We died prior to metamorphosis of butterfly
Our children again set the chess table
This time in cube
A silent shriek warns
Intelligencer bows its bones and flesh statue
In the front of place
Where the master use to sit
My two years old daughter shocked me again and thus in serial
Speechless she claim
Dad I love you but I don’t know why
Nor do I
I respond as certified imbecile
The constellation of Sagittarius in miniature
Found its space in my forehead
To send beams straight
To my hypothalamus and nurture it splendidly
Jupiter violates the territory of mortals
I’m the one alike
A yellow topaz bears nano- formula
A seed for another thousand years
We rejoice earthly wisdom
The noetic’ mock us
As we were mere single cell creatures
Yet unaware of their derision
Yet beyond all exoteric’
Prays in the altar of experiment
Full of breakable paraphernalia

© Fahredin Shehu

Prishtina, Kosovo

Foto nga Tirana

Duska Vrhovac at http://www.mediterranean.nu/?p=1795

Duska Vrhovac, writer, journalist and translator, born in 1947 in Banja Luka, former Yugoslavia. She graduated contemporary literature at Faculty of Philology, University of Belgrade. She has worked in various media and has worked with major newspapers. She has been editor of radio and television broadcasts. A journalist by profession, at the highest level of professional qualifications, she left her job with the RTS (Radio Television of Serbia) and then to work as a writer and freelance journalist. She lives in Belgrade, Serbia.

She has published 17 books of poetry many of which have been translated, in part or in full, in 16 languages (English, Italian, Spanish, German, Russian…) and she is considered one of the most famous contemporary poets from Serbia. Present in anthologies devoted to world-class poets. She has received important awards for poetry and the gold badge “for the generosity, dedication, perseverance and creative contributions that are made in his time worked to spread the culture of the nationalities of the Republic of Serbia.” She has participated in numerous meetings, festivals and literary events, journalistic and scientific conferences at home and abroad.

Published poetry books:

•San po san [Dream By Dream], Nova knjiga, Beograd, 1986
•S dušom u telu [With a Soul in a Body] Novo delo, Beograd, 1987
•Godine bez leta [Years Without Summer], Književne novine i Grafos, Beograd, 1988
•Glas na pragu [Voice on Threshold], Grafos, Beograd, 1990
•I Wear My Shadow Inside Me, Forest Books, London, 1991 (translated from Serbian: Richard Burns with Vera Radojević)
•S obe strane Drine [On Both Sides of the Drina River], Zadužbina Petar Kočić, Banja Luka, 1995
•Žeđ na vodi [Thirst on Water], Srempublik, Beograd, 1995
•Blagoslov – stošest pesama o ljubavi [BLESSING – onehundredandsix poems of love], Metalograf, Trstenik, 1996
•Žeđ na vodi, drugo dopunjeno izdanje [Thirst on Water, second revised edition], Srempublik, Beograd, 1997
•Izabrane i nove pesme [Selected and New Poems], Prosveta, Beograd, 2002
•Zalog [Forfeit], Ljubostinja, Trstenik, 2003
•Operacija na otvorenom srcu [Surgery on the open heart], Alma, Beograd 2006
•Za sve je kriv pesnik [The poet is guilty for everything], independent electronic edition, 2007
•Moja Desanka (My Desanka), Beograd, 2008
•Urođene slike/Immagini innati (bilingual edition Serbian/Italian), Smederevo, 2010
About poetry of Duska Vrhovac:

Milan Mihajlović, Otadžbina, broj 6, Beograd 2007: The poetry by Duska Vrhovac is very interesting and provocative. She, behind the all poetical backdrops and metaphors, affects the reader in cathartic, curative and divine way, during and after the reading. Her poems are, without doubt, exceptional achievement, which they assign of modern courses in Serbian and European poetry. Those are poetical forms, from prayer to excellent satire, realized by lyrical means.

Anna Santoliquido, Le Voci Della Luna, Numero 14 Settembre 2000: The great mataphores by Duska Vrhovac are, and they have always been, dream and children, tokens of desire and life that is blooming. The veil of melancholy, disapproval of evil, dreams, layered meanings, feelings, whip up reader’s curiosity for Balkan’s history. And that is how one’s woman poetical vistory becomes universal element and interconecting ring.

Ljubica Miletić, Žedj na vodi (Thirst on Water), second revised edition, Srempublik 1997: While she talks about terrible fantasy of evil, she is strongly on the side of good, that is one kind of Duska’s testimony and resistance, her belief, love and all hope that evil is not omnipotent and that is transient.

Richard Burns, I WEAR MY SHADOW INSIDE ME Poems by Duška Vrhovac, Forest Books, London 1991: A poem by Duška Vrhovac often has the quality of an amulet: open it up, and inside you will find a secret and a memento. In a small space, she can catch and hold the moment, as well as its whole range of echoes. Many of her poems have an easy conversational surface, yet she can make what looks like a polished pebble open and grow in the mind like a seed. In Serbo, she often makes coinages of her own, and relishes the full sonoric and metaphorical resonances of her mother language. And, firmly rooted in her own experience, she never overstates but always affirms her heritage and her consciousness, which are inescapably those of a modern Yugoslav woman. “I don’t put my life into my poems,” she has said. “My life is for the living. What goes into my poems is what can’t be lived in my life.” This compex idea irradiates all her work. The poems are finely patterned miniatures, “inklings”, in all senses of the word: creatures living and breathing through ink, instants at once trapped in time yet freed from it, glimpses and aperçus, intimations and recognitions.


LONGING FOR THE MEDITERRANEAN

My palm is warm as the Mediterranean sun is,
my eyes are blue like Mediterranean sky,
my words are healing as the waters of the Mediterranean are,
but yet, the Mediterranean is eternal and myself so fleeting.

1.

When I think of you, alive Mediterranean water
forever settled in the colour of my view,
only when I think of you
I see my ancestors how they are helming,
sailing their invisible ships
between merciless, invisible rocks
with song frozen and bound,
and I hear how they are calling my future name.

Whilst trembling I say goodbye to the sun in the dusk
to drown in your horizon
only drowning in you
it will rise again tomorrow,
sweet saltiness of someone’s ancient tears
I can taste on my thickened tongue,
communion with drops of ice
melted on the unquenchable fire of the genesis.


2.

If only I could once
like a seagull over the Mediterranean Sea
soar to the other side of sky,
to the unfathomable beauty of the first dates,
to the places which are long gone
on the maps of the world’s journeys,
my blue eyes would return to the sky
its mute colour of infinity.

If I only once without error
played perfect crystal notes
preludes of souls from sunken ships,
and only once, if I could lie down my shadow
on your blue open sea
as a shadow of a seagull falls on it,
I would return again into the drop of water
of which my mother first created me.

I would return to a daybreak and sand,
to myself eternal and I would learn how to read
secret signs of the wind, water and sky,
signs that today only poetry
attempts to engrave into already too salty air
and into drops of the purple rain,
to save them for some instruments and hands
that neither our unborn children are not aware of yet.


If you die at dusk

If you die at dusk
it won’t be snowing black snow over the city.
One heart will light string of stars
over your last words
and send away a night from your asleep fingers.

If you die at dusk
on your way from the cinema
children from the suburb
will pick up bunches of field flowers
in which you will immerse your leaving image
and you will wish to laugh
when from a distance a train emerges.

If you die at dusk
it won’t be unnoticed.
All you loved will know it,
by accident or unavoidable,
long and painful,
or just for a moment, at a glance.

If you die at dusk
I shall wait for that night
in the town which we haven’t been before
I’ll take you into the garden
of blossomed oranges
to look at the sea
like it is the show
we have directed ourselves
and which promises catharsis.

If you die at dusk
I’ll sail with you easily
like the paths of childhood
and we shall be two shiny, sliver clouds
two chords of a tender sonata
composed for a divine harp
but never played.

If you die at dusk
you’ll trick all others
And you will follow only my voice,
the one which promised you, one night
in the ancient Smederevo
essential date,
referring to this, present life
and you only said: maybe in another life.

If you die at dusk
everything will happen the way I wanted to be
and you will have no choice.
You will love with the strength of
all your former loves,
with ardour of youth which has escaped so suddenly
and poetry in which you have found meaning and salvation.
And you, now, after this poem on poem
choose and die, if you must die.
My shadow still standing at the door
and waving at an innocent smile
of someone who used to be a boy
who has lost track and forgotten the magic word.


To Find My Own Word

Countless poets have already told
how they see a whole world in a grain of sand,
infinity in the palm of a hand, all heaven in an eye,
and how a single day can be an eternity..

Many of them have glorified love,
cursed suffering, sorrow and pain,
described death, hell, paradise and a happy home,
earnest that everlasting shall be their work and name.

Everything has been said and seen,
forewarned, sung and written about,
and there is nothing that has never been.

So why then do here I stand
Like the first woman and the first man,
As if I were a God.

To say what was told?
To describe what is written?
To find my own word.

DUSKA VRHOVAC

© Translated from the Serbian by Richard Burns,
V. Radojević and A. Malešević


http://www.mediterranean.nu/?p=1795

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Published on mediterranean.nu with the permission of Duska Vrhovac

Tamara on Middle East Online, London

http://www.middle-east-online.com/english/?id=42584

Thus spoke Tamara


'I have squeezed all weapons human and demon have created. And made a powder so by every pinch, a smile gave birth to love.'


Middle East Online




'Washed the stratosphere of disasters'



I have polished the eyes of suffered child

Removing steamy layers of his vision

To see a sparkling teeth while I smile

And my soul’s dormant and well hidden planet of hate

***

I have washed the stratosphere of disasters

Their parents layered meticulously in his being

With tears with love impregnated

I have peeled all membranes of polluted spirit

***

I bestowed a smile to a frog

And a kiss to a silenced jade

***

I have leaked the dew from the petal of the white rose

And counted rubies from the ripened pomegranate

***

I have planted all sorts of fruits

And made a playground for all of us

You may call it orchard

You may call it plantation of Love’s newborn

But I know its Tachyon-ic soil

Where only Love may plant its seed

***

I have tailored an emerald dress

And perfumed it with amber for every child to wear

I feed every stomach

With bedazzling light of my soul

To make them transparent

To make them enlightened

***

I have created the army of smile

And called all experts to dismantle the machinery of hate

In the fields of light’s symphony

In eternity’s holly moment

***

I have embraced all visible and invisible infants

And rejoiced their happiness

***

I have squeezed all weapons

Human and demon have created

And made a powder so by every pinch

A smile gave birth to love

***


Middle East Online
http://www.middle-east-online.com/english/?id=42584

Thank you Anders Dahlgren from Gotteborg

http://www.mediterranean.nu/?p=1794

Fahredin Shehu was born in Rahovec, South East of Kosova, in 1972. graduated at Prishtina University, Oriental Studies. M.A. in Literature. His work has been translated in English, Serbian, Croatian, Bosnian, Roma, Swedish, Turkish, Arabic and Romanian. Fahredin Shehu works in Administration of Radio Television of Kosova RTK and is ambassador of Poets to Albania by Poetas del Mundo, Santiago de Chile. He also actively works on Calligraphy discovering new mediums and techniques for this specific for of plastic art.

Published books:

NUN- collection of mystical poems, 1996, author’s edition
INVISIBLE PLURALITY- Poetical prose, 2000, author’s edition
NEKTARINA- Novel, Transcendental Epic, 2004, publishing House, Rozafa Prishtinë- project of Ministry of Culture Sport and Youth of Kosova
ELEMENTAL 99- Short poetical mystical stories, 2006, Center for positive thinking, Prishinë
KUN- collection of transcendental lyrics, 2007, Publishing House LOGOS-A, Skopje, Macedonia
Issues on papers and magazines:

Essays in daily paper ZERI, Prishtinë
Essays in daily paper LAJM, Prishtinë
Essays in daily paper GAZETAEXPRESS, Prishtinë
Essays in daily paper ILIRIA POST, Prishtinë
Columns and essays on weekly paper JAVA, Prishtinë
Poetry on Magazine of Center for Humanistic studies GANI BOBI, Prishtinë
Essays on Journal “Oriental Studies”, Kosova Orientalist’s Association
Poetry in Magazine STAV- Tuzla, Bosnia and Herzegovina
Poetry in Magazine ZIVOT- Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina
Poetry in Magazine ULAZNICA- Zrenjanin, Vojvodina
Poetry in Magazine URRA- Tirana, Albania
Poetry in Magazine POETA- Belgrade, Serbia
Poetry in Magazine, ISTANBUL LITERARY REVIEW, Istanbul, Turkey
Poetry in Magazine, MOBIUS MAGAZINE, New York
Poetry in Magazine OBELISK, Tirana, Albania
Essays in electronic magazine SEGURAWEB, Holland
Essays in electronic magazine GAZETA START, Albania
THE WORLD POETS QUARTERLY (multilingual) VOLUME No. 58
THE WORLD POETS YEARBOOK 2009
Poetry in www.balkanwriters.com
The Book of Poetry E-Book in www.ronopress.org, London
The book of Poetry in Nadwah Press, Hong Kong www.arabicnadwah.com/englishpoetry/fahredin_shehu.htm
Poetry Romanian version orientul-meu.blogspot.com/2010/11/asa-grait-tamara.html
Poetry in English on The Sound of Poetry Review thesoundofpoetryreview.wordpress.com/2010/04/26/fahredin-shehu-kosovar-poet/
Articles in www.worldbulletin.com
Articles in www.newropeansmagazine.com
Participations:

Exhibition of Calligraphies in Cairo, Egypt, 2004
Sarajevo 44th Poetry Meeting, Sarajevo 2005
Congress on 600th anniversary of the work of Abdurrahman Ibn Khaldun, Cairo, Egypt, 2006
Meeting for the ethnic minority rights, European Parliament, Bruxelles, 2006
Exhibition of paintings and calligraphies at the Ministry of Culture and Tourism, Cairo Egypt, 2007
Participation on the Congress on 800th anniversary of a Persian Poet RUMI, organized by
UNESCO/Albania and Saadi Shirazi Foundation, Tirana
Participation at the International conference on Identity and building bridges, Canakkale, Turkey
Debates on national KTV, RTK, TV BESA, TV 21
Artists Profile “KULT”, “AVENY” on RTK Public Broadcaster
Interviews for all nation wide Electronic Media and Press

Thus spoke Tamara

I have polished the eyes of suffered child
Removing steamy layers of his vision
To see a sparkling teeth while I smile
And my soul’s dormant and well hidden planet of hate

I have washed the stratosphere of disasters
Their parents layered meticulously in his being
With tears with love impregnated
I have peeled all membranes of polluted spirit

I bestowed a smile to a frog
And a kiss to a silenced jade

I have leaked the dew from the petal of the white rose
And counted rubies from the ripened pomegranate

I have planted all sorts of fruits
And made a playground for all of us
You may call it orchard
You may call it plantation of Love’s newborn
But I know its Tachyon-ic soil
Where only Love may plant its seed

I have tailored an emerald dress
And perfumed it with amber for every child to wear
I feed every stomach
With bedazzling light of my soul
To make them transparent
To make them enlightened

I have created the army of smile
And called all experts to dismantle the machinery of hate
In the fields of light’s symphony
In eternity’s holly moment

I have embraced all visible and invisible infants
And rejoiced their happiness

I have squeezed all weapons
Human and demon have created
And made a powder so by every pinch
A smile gave birth to love


My wishful thinking…

I fully embrace the lights of all sources
Mixing tears with the blue flame
Abandoning all human fears
Encroaching the grass of all darkest green
Smelling running water at the bank of the Nile
Receipted in the Onyx foyer surrounded by
Unfurled rainbow muslin roll with gold color encrypted
Formulas for Love intoxicated entities
Am I?
Such befuddled to melt as a snowflake
When the sun ray sings its quatrain
And perfume it with the fresh scent
Of angels’ armpit
And all Seraphs laugh in unison
For all lost “I-s”


Eternal present

Unless you become beautiful
You have no right to approach Beauty

If the one longs only for flowers
I shall bloom at once the entire spring

Until you leave the future behind
There’s no mere chance you make thou art a living influence

If I long only for eternal unknown
I tell you again I break this goblet
Into fragments and resurrect as phoenix
Then from my new goblet you may drink
Unpolluted vine
With the lips of deadly curse

Then my Art is for real


The tiny mysteries

The tiny mysteries
He was telling me the mystery of Mispha
And the lingam washed with the milky water
Remained still

I came to a place called knowledge
Got aware of my ignorance

She was telling me the mystery of Delphi
And the white pigeon spoke in vein
From the heaven down to the isle

I came to a place called will
Moved heart- stones and multitude of passion

You were telling me the mystery of Gabriel
And the sounds of tiny bells
Under the myriads of flame rainbow wings

I came to a place called Love
Built my settlement of beloved and
The praying room in the middle
Of the temple
And I stand contrite
For all lost YOU


Unusual “I”

The hand of mercy sprinkled
A golden dust over and over
The lips of wisdom spoke silence
The womb of planet bears progeny
A spark of diamond in the dew of my tear
Boiling one
A drop of it to melt the ice cube of your heart
Usual you and usual I
As waterfall from the top of the hill
Lofty unusual I
Stands bewildered and obtuse
An oxymoron
That wants to examine
Here in its lab
Alas Love
And God forbid
We dry out slowly and sure
Homo nuovus has its saying
“Unless you are in love
You have no right to approach the unknown”


The Gown

A neon- color cornucopia gurgles as spring
Standing in the middle
I remain overwhelmed
Nano- metric particles embraces sinful population
Of cells absorbed by light
It’s Zephyr that transports souls
Nowhere else you may see
Lifted up, up, up they bear
Nuptials to the gaps of heaven but
The entrance pearly macadam
Krypton threshold and cedar wood gate
Golden latch opens to host guests
The bride…is I glimmered?
Heavy walk I started as death angel
Walks on earth
Aerial walk now steps far
In advance as seraph I wear
The gown lightly embroidered
With knots curls sparks and pearls
Of the ionic thread
Light is as feather its weight
Light I as bubble about to burst
Light as happiness my momentum
We levitate above golden leaf wheat field
Seeing our shadows beneath
Our heavily impregnated cubic souls
We see the footprints of malicious
Who encroached our shadow when
The sun was as God adored and
Stand in the front of us
Anyway we undress the gown
Naked souls in unison
Sing dance and rejoice
Wash at the bank of milky river
The mantle of the Green Man waits
Our essentials wait too
To fill and go in procession
To celebrate eternals


Theophany

You kiss me and stamp my existence
I kiss you and melt in God’s essence

The granular spittle that remains in my throat
A long day between winter and spring
My state known only by friends few of them
My Love felt by every creature
The bastards that sprinkles with their hatred
And those that converts their names and faith
This suffocating visible plurality of creatures and bizarre manifestations
My spiritual nervation has strengthened
Soul cells are dancing the muttered nation’s dance called Love
Those who make sex in the air as flies’ foals hatred babies
Can you kill babies is our question
We the invisible plurality of divine creatures and manifestations
We the perpetual Theophany coruscate in pure hearts
As Sun in the dews of mornings full of vetyver, ambergris, limonene, fragrance and a slight skunk of civet, moschus and the sweat men by labor exhausted
We speak we sing we paint
With the act without exhaling a syllable from our holly mouths
We sprinkle with the aureate dust
Straight we look at Saturn ring color eyes and the color of peacock tale feather
We built a cube temple and play chess in cube
We love the terrain where the guests of Moses and Lot before him had passed through
We sing with Seraph of high realms we sing in sync
Here we bring joy in hearts of those who encroached in procession through emerald macadam
Where you seldom pass
We know by heart the Al Jaffr and ten Sefirots and we read the Liber Razielis
We accompanied Adam Kadmon in his solitude prior to separation and embodiment in terrain that will be bloodied by human through centuries
We have said to John to go in the river Jordan baptize the Christ and lead him on
For those who knows a little
We said to Waraka to prepare Muhammad to become the leader of those who seek the truth
We said to Bahaullah to explain men to take after women and the mother Earth
Otherwise in upcoming millennium the solely food of them shall be kernels and water
We said to Gibran commence the Theurgy for upcoming millennium being as solely artistic repose for creative men
We said to Fahredin write as much as possible and hush as a canyon stone
Until he finds his echo point
We…


Elixir

There’s only a dew of elixir in the bottom of the empty cup sleeping as lamb
Now they call it heart, I call it polluted spirit, and you may call it ruby pomegranate granules
But we the simplest so called human entities jointly may only Love and this is sufficient
To suffer for the thousand years and a day more

The one who cares not is the luckiest mundane ignorant but I’m the one alike who outpours his quintessential not knowing for whom
Not knowing for what reason a purpose never show its glamour in advance
For warning, for love or even for sake of its purest manifestation

In times when words were queued in the thread abundantly curved in bobbin from the human scalp
The necklace of verse is fading its shine no sparkling truths gurgles from its spring to obey our thirsts
We the thirsty souls for divine morsel wandering in here as the spirits of suicide victims
Empty stomachs of enfant terrible only for the grasp of the truth they never hear even as the sound of insect
Never as the sound of falling frozen spirit in jade that you may later see as the Galatea of divine maternal essence
A cornucopia of latent blessings waits
A deficit of Love outbursts proudly displaying its genitalia without a drop of shame
I wander as a working bee searching for the nectar of wisdom to feed my Queen bee
And bestow her eternal life with the royal jelly leaking elegantly from the bottom to the navel



All poems on this post: © Fahredin Shehu
Published on mediterranean.nu with the permission of Fahredin Shehu

Athanase Vantchev de Thracy, PLAGЁT E BUKURISЁ

Fahredin Shehu

PLAGЁT E BUKURISЁ
Athanase Vantchev de Thracy


Po të mos ishin Gjovalin Kola dhe Jeton Kelmendi; Athanase Vantchev de Thracy për mua do të ishte një njeri, i cili shkruan poezi vetëm për Francën apo vetëm për Bulgarinë, të cilat e përbëjnë identitetin e dukshëm human të poetit De Thracy, por me tej identiteti i tij është global dhe atë për shumë arsye dhe për këtë kam hise të flas me shumë ëndje, prandaj më duhet ta përsërisë vetvetën për të satën herë se, rëndësia e përkthyesëve është gjithmonë si rëndësia e urrave që na lidhin me një botë më pak të njohur. Puna e lodhëshme e përkthimit pothuaj, asnjëherë nuk është shpërblyer, shpeshherë madje as duke i adresuar falënderime.
Shfrytëzoj këtë shkrim si rast i duhur që publikisht t’u falënderohem përkthyesëve, me falënderimet të cilat i tejlakojnë lartësitë e reve të bardha.

Kur kihet parasyshë se kulti i fjalës së shkruar jeton ende dhe me tej kulti i poezisë sado që perceptohet se nuk ka lexues, kjo duket se është fazë kaluese, sepse De Thracy e dëshmon të kundërtën, e resurekton poezinë duke filluar nga antikiteti nëpër mesjetë e deri në kohën tonë, na inkurajon të mendojmë se nëse koha e profetëve ka mbaruar tëë përzgjedhurit e Zotit prej eoneve të lashta e deri më sot duket se nuk janë kush tjetër pos poetëve.

Thellësisht i preokupuar me konceptet të cilat janë problematike që nga gjeneza e njeriut; vdekja, jeta, dashuria, bukuria, arti, De Thracy na shpalos një muslin të ndjeshëm dhe sensual e spektral të fjalëve filigranike të përzgjedhura me kujdes, dedikime të përzgjedhura me kujdes, motiveve të përzgjedhura me kujdes dhe finesë të veçantë. Nga antikiteti letrar Epikuri dhe Lukreci, nëpërmjet mesjetës i kthehet Solomon Ibn Gabriolit, Juda Ha Levi dhe traditës mistike hebreje, tek Mevlana Rumiu, Nazim Hikmet dhe Ahmed Shaëki, Ëilhelm Heinrich Ëackenroder, Paul Verlaine dhe Novalis, etj. Sakaq dëshmon më shumë thënien e poetit persian Saadi Shirazi, ...kur të përzihesh me lule e merr aromën e tyre. Ja se De Thracy e bënë këtë në mnyrën e vetë origjinale dhe për mua si poet e herë herë kritik, më kthen tek hyjnorja dhe se vërtetë edhe pas Khalil Gibranit transcendentalja vibron në të dy kahet e botës. Derisa Munir Mezyed, palestinezi i kthehet Rumanisë që të krijoj poezi, e cila e pason hyjnoren e Gibranit, De Thracy nga Bullgaria në Francë e bart peshën subtile nëpër netët pa gjumë dhe punë të palodhëshme në një trajtë universale duke mos e mohura kulturën Lindore e as Perendimore por duke e konsideruar atë si begatshmëri dhe duke e bartur flakadanin e urtësisë dhe poezisë Evropiane.

Fjalët të cilat unë i rradhis në këtë shkrim janë refleks i vetëm një libri, i cili porsi bletë grumbullon nektarin nga shumë lule dhe nuk di nga cila dhe nga sa lule ka mbledhur nektar për ta prodhuar një bulë mjalte, nëse kështumë lejohet t’i parafrazoj Upanisadat e urta induse.

Himnet dhe epitafet e De Thracy kanë një ndjeshmëri të rrallë artistike dhe thellësi estetike, veçmas epitafi:


EPITAF PËR ATHANΑSE DE THRACY-IN

O njerëz të Francës, rrëzë kësaj peme të njomë
Fle gjumin e ëmbël dhe të përjetshëm
Athanase de Thracy,
Më i dhembshuri dhe më i dashuruari
I poetëve të Francës.

Me pathos të thellë në këtë segment:
FJALË KOPSHTARIE TË NJË TË PADUKSHMI

Për Alfonso Gatto

Më mësoni lutje të vjetra dhe himne kishtare të përshpirtshme,
Fjalët me aromë temjani Arabie,
Formula që sjellin besimin,
Ekuacionet melodioze të organos,
Teoremat mugulluese
Të ujrave të tokës dhe të qiellit!

Se në tërësi i dedikohet poezisë De Thracy pohon në vargje me ndjeshmëri prej artisti të madh në epigrafin:

LULE SHËNGJERGJI

"Frumentum Christi sum..."
"Unë jam nga brumi i Krishtit"


Kalimtar, këtu prehet Athanase-i
Vesën e mëngjesit ka për qefin,
E për varr zambakët në luginë -
Jeta e tij qe një poemë,
Poemë që do të mbetet në përjetësi!


Poetit japonez Sugakaëa Yoko-s i kushton haiku duke i kënduar pleqërisë:

Një gjethe e verdhë bie
prej plepit-
një lot e përcjell,
jam plakur!


Poetit ndër më të mëdhënjtë përsian Abul Qasim Hassan ibn Ahmad 'Unsuri Balkhi i kushton këtë poezi:

Flauti i barit derdh shpirtin e tij të mahnitur
Mbi qepallat ngjyrë blu gjysmë të mbyllura.
Princi im! Çfarë mbetet nga parfumi luksoz i shënimeve,
Të letrave të pashkruara, të fjalëve të pashprehura?

Se bota është e bukurë në gjithë tërësinë e sajë më së miri e përshkruan e ndërton dhe e mbindërton poeti me sensualitetin engjëllor duke e zbritur hyjnoren nga katet e larta qiellore dhe duke e transmetuar në letër, e tani edhe në formën elektronike.





Athanase Vantchev de Thracy




Athanase Vantchev de Thracy është pa dyshim njëri nga poetët më të mëdhenj bashkëkohorë francezë. I lindur më 3 janar 1940, në Haskovo të Bullgarisë.

Athanase Vantchev de Thracy është autor i 32 përmbledhjeve me poezi (të shkruara në varg klasik dhe të lirë), ku ai përdor gjithë spektrin e prozodisë : epopenë, odën, sonetin, bukoliket, idilet, pastoralet, baladat, elegjitë, rondon, satirën, himin, epigramin, epitafin etj. Ai ka publikuar gjithashtu një numër monografish si dhe punimin e doktoraturës, Simbolika e dritës në poezinë e Paul Verlaine-it. Në bullgarisht, ai shkruan një studim për shkrimtarin epikurian Petronin, të mbiquajtur Petronius Arbiter elegantiaru, i preferuari i perandorit Neron, autor i romanit klasik Satirikoni, si dhe një studim në gjuhën ruse me titullin Poetika dhe metafizika në veprën e Dostojevskit.

Duke qenë një njohës shumë i mirë i antikitetit, Athanase Vantchev de Thracy ka shkruar mjaft artikuj për poezinë greke e latine. Kurse gjatë qëndrimit të tij prej dy vjetësh në Tunizi, ai boton njëra pas tjetrës tri vepra kushtuar dy qytezave punike tuniziane : Monastir-Ruspina – ana e tejdukshme, El-Djem-Thysdrus – e fejuara e kaltërsisë dhe Mozaikët e qytetit të Thysdrus-it.
Ai studion për shumë vite me radhë islamin dhe vendet e Lindjes si Sirinë, Turqinë, Libanin, Arabinë Saudite, Jordaninë, Irakun, Egjiptin, Marokun, Tunizinë, Mauritaninë dhe Taxhikistanin, ku kalon edhe një pjesë të jetës së tij. Në këtë periudhë, ai përshtat në gjuhën frënge veprën historike të Mustafa Tlass-it, Zenobie, mbretëresha e Palmyre-s.

Ai qëndroi gjithashtu dy vjet në Rusi (1993-1994) për të studiuar poezinë ruse. Përkthyes i një plejade të tërë poetësh, Athanase Vantchev de Thracy është nderuar me shumë çmime letrare kombëtare e ndërkombëtare, midis të cilëve me Çmimin e Madh Ndërkombëtar të Poezisë Solenzara. Ai është laureat i Akademisë Franceze, anëtar i Akademisë Evropiane të Shkencave, Arteve dhe të Letërsisë, Docteur honoris causa i Universitetit të Veliko Tarnovo-s, në Bullgari, laureat i Ministrisë së Punëve të Jashtmë të Francës, anëtar i P.E.N Club-it francez, i Shoqatës së Shkrimtarëve francezë si dhe i Shtëpisë së Shkrimtarëve dhe të Letërsisë në Francë. Poezitë e tij janë përkthyer në shumë gjuhë të huaja.

Ëshët anëtarë i Akademisë së Shkencave të Brazilit dhe Bullgarisë dhe Ambasador i Lëvizjes Poetët Botëror, Poetas Del Mundo për Evropën.


Vepra poetike
Flakërime (1970), Hije e marrëzi (1971), Polyhymnia (1981), Libri i transparencave (1981), Orë e Stinë (1981), Ti, Virgjëreshë e zjarrit (1985), ribotuar më 2001 dhe 2002, Oaz, fytyrë drite (1986), Strofa pentakorde (1986), Animula vagula, blandula (1986), Sonetet e Damaskut (1987), Elozh dritës (1987), Libër për oktavat (1987), Leptis-Minor (sonete romane), Përmbi Fjalët (1988), Anamnezë (1991), ribotim i zgjeruar(2006), Vetmia e Tridhjetë (1992), Trallisje, pasuar nga Shkëlqimet (1992), Këngë homofonike (1997), Zëra të bukur antikë (2000), Befas, një drithërimë ëngjëllore (2000), Momente përjetësie (2001), Anale dhe përshpirtje (2002), Epopteia ( Soditje sublime) 2003, Elegji (2003), Ora e Nëntë (2004), Mëshirë, o Zot! (2005), Kështu bëhen njerëzit (2006), Dhe deti kthehej në këngë (2007), Vizione zemre (2008), Edhe njëherë për poezinë hyjnore (2009).

Athanase Vantchev de Thracy, PLAGЁT E BUKURISЁ

Fahredin Shehu

PLAGЁT E BUKURISЁ
Athanase Vantchev de Thracy


Po të mos ishin Gjovalin Kola dhe Jeton Kelmendi; Athanase Vantchev de Thracy për mua do të ishte një njeri, i cili shkruan poezi vetëm për Francën apo vetëm për Bulgarinë, të cilat e përbëjnë identitetin e dukshëm human të poetit De Thracy, por me tej identiteti i tij është global dhe atë për shumë arsye dhe për këtë kam hise të flas me shumë ëndje, prandaj më duhet ta përsërisë vetvetën për të satën herë se, rëndësia e përkthyesëve është gjithmonë si rëndësia e urrave që na lidhin me një botë më pak të njohur. Puna e lodhëshme e përkthimit pothuaj, asnjëherë nuk është shpërblyer, shpeshherë madje as duke i adresuar falënderime.
Shfrytëzoj këtë shkrim si rast i duhur që publikisht t’u falënderohem përkthyesëve, me falënderimet të cilat i tejlakojnë lartësitë e reve të bardha.

Kur kihet parasyshë se kulti i fjalës së shkruar jeton ende dhe me tej kulti i poezisë sado që perceptohet se nuk ka lexues, kjo duket se është fazë kaluese, sepse De Thracy e dëshmon të kundërtën, e resurekton poezinë duke filluar nga antikiteti nëpër mesjetë e deri në kohën tonë, na inkurajon të mendojmë se nëse koha e profetëve ka mbaruar tëë përzgjedhurit e Zotit prej eoneve të lashta e deri më sot duket se nuk janë kush tjetër pos poetëve.

Thellësisht i preokupuar me konceptet të cilat janë problematike që nga gjeneza e njeriut; vdekja, jeta, dashuria, bukuria, arti, De Thracy na shpalos një muslin të ndjeshëm dhe sensual e spektral të fjalëve filigranike të përzgjedhura me kujdes, dedikime të përzgjedhura me kujdes, motiveve të përzgjedhura me kujdes dhe finesë të veçantë. Nga antikiteti letrar Epikuri dhe Lukreci, nëpërmjet mesjetës i kthehet Solomon Ibn Gabriolit, Juda Ha Levi dhe traditës mistike hebreje, tek Mevlana Rumiu, Nazim Hikmet dhe Ahmed Shaëki, Ëilhelm Heinrich Ëackenroder, Paul Verlaine dhe Novalis, etj. Sakaq dëshmon më shumë thënien e poetit persian Saadi Shirazi, ...kur të përzihesh me lule e merr aromën e tyre. Ja se De Thracy e bënë këtë në mnyrën e vetë origjinale dhe për mua si poet e herë herë kritik, më kthen tek hyjnorja dhe se vërtetë edhe pas Khalil Gibranit transcendentalja vibron në të dy kahet e botës. Derisa Munir Mezyed, palestinezi i kthehet Rumanisë që të krijoj poezi, e cila e pason hyjnoren e Gibranit, De Thracy nga Bullgaria në Francë e bart peshën subtile nëpër netët pa gjumë dhe punë të palodhëshme në një trajtë universale duke mos e mohura kulturën Lindore e as Perendimore por duke e konsideruar atë si begatshmëri dhe duke e bartur flakadanin e urtësisë dhe poezisë Evropiane.

Fjalët të cilat unë i rradhis në këtë shkrim janë refleks i vetëm një libri, i cili porsi bletë grumbullon nektarin nga shumë lule dhe nuk di nga cila dhe nga sa lule ka mbledhur nektar për ta prodhuar një bulë mjalte, nëse kështumë lejohet t’i parafrazoj Upanisadat e urta induse.

Himnet dhe epitafet e De Thracy kanë një ndjeshmëri të rrallë artistike dhe thellësi estetike, veçmas epitafi:


EPITAF PËR ATHANΑSE DE THRACY-IN

O njerëz të Francës, rrëzë kësaj peme të njomë
Fle gjumin e ëmbël dhe të përjetshëm
Athanase de Thracy,
Më i dhembshuri dhe më i dashuruari
I poetëve të Francës.

Me pathos të thellë në këtë segment:
FJALË KOPSHTARIE TË NJË TË PADUKSHMI

Për Alfonso Gatto

Më mësoni lutje të vjetra dhe himne kishtare të përshpirtshme,
Fjalët me aromë temjani Arabie,
Formula që sjellin besimin,
Ekuacionet melodioze të organos,
Teoremat mugulluese
Të ujrave të tokës dhe të qiellit!

Se në tërësi i dedikohet poezisë De Thracy pohon në vargje me ndjeshmëri prej artisti të madh në epigrafin:

LULE SHËNGJERGJI

"Frumentum Christi sum..."
"Unë jam nga brumi i Krishtit"


Kalimtar, këtu prehet Athanase-i
Vesën e mëngjesit ka për qefin,
E për varr zambakët në luginë -
Jeta e tij qe një poemë,
Poemë që do të mbetet në përjetësi!


Poetit japonez Sugakaëa Yoko-s i kushton haiku duke i kënduar pleqërisë:

Një gjethe e verdhë bie
prej plepit-
një lot e përcjell,
jam plakur!


Poetit ndër më të mëdhënjtë përsian Abul Qasim Hassan ibn Ahmad 'Unsuri Balkhi i kushton këtë poezi:

Flauti i barit derdh shpirtin e tij të mahnitur
Mbi qepallat ngjyrë blu gjysmë të mbyllura.
Princi im! Çfarë mbetet nga parfumi luksoz i shënimeve,
Të letrave të pashkruara, të fjalëve të pashprehura?

Se bota është e bukurë në gjithë tërësinë e sajë më së miri e përshkruan e ndërton dhe e mbindërton poeti me sensualitetin engjëllor duke e zbritur hyjnoren nga katet e larta qiellore dhe duke e transmetuar në letër, e tani edhe në formën elektronike.





Athanase Vantchev de Thracy




Athanase Vantchev de Thracy është pa dyshim njëri nga poetët më të mëdhenj bashkëkohorë francezë. I lindur më 3 janar 1940, në Haskovo të Bullgarisë.

Athanase Vantchev de Thracy është autor i 32 përmbledhjeve me poezi (të shkruara në varg klasik dhe të lirë), ku ai përdor gjithë spektrin e prozodisë : epopenë, odën, sonetin, bukoliket, idilet, pastoralet, baladat, elegjitë, rondon, satirën, himin, epigramin, epitafin etj. Ai ka publikuar gjithashtu një numër monografish si dhe punimin e doktoraturës, Simbolika e dritës në poezinë e Paul Verlaine-it. Në bullgarisht, ai shkruan një studim për shkrimtarin epikurian Petronin, të mbiquajtur Petronius Arbiter elegantiaru, i preferuari i perandorit Neron, autor i romanit klasik Satirikoni, si dhe një studim në gjuhën ruse me titullin Poetika dhe metafizika në veprën e Dostojevskit.

Duke qenë një njohës shumë i mirë i antikitetit, Athanase Vantchev de Thracy ka shkruar mjaft artikuj për poezinë greke e latine. Kurse gjatë qëndrimit të tij prej dy vjetësh në Tunizi, ai boton njëra pas tjetrës tri vepra kushtuar dy qytezave punike tuniziane : Monastir-Ruspina – ana e tejdukshme, El-Djem-Thysdrus – e fejuara e kaltërsisë dhe Mozaikët e qytetit të Thysdrus-it.
Ai studion për shumë vite me radhë islamin dhe vendet e Lindjes si Sirinë, Turqinë, Libanin, Arabinë Saudite, Jordaninë, Irakun, Egjiptin, Marokun, Tunizinë, Mauritaninë dhe Taxhikistanin, ku kalon edhe një pjesë të jetës së tij. Në këtë periudhë, ai përshtat në gjuhën frënge veprën historike të Mustafa Tlass-it, Zenobie, mbretëresha e Palmyre-s.

Ai qëndroi gjithashtu dy vjet në Rusi (1993-1994) për të studiuar poezinë ruse. Përkthyes i një plejade të tërë poetësh, Athanase Vantchev de Thracy është nderuar me shumë çmime letrare kombëtare e ndërkombëtare, midis të cilëve me Çmimin e Madh Ndërkombëtar të Poezisë Solenzara. Ai është laureat i Akademisë Franceze, anëtar i Akademisë Evropiane të Shkencave, Arteve dhe të Letërsisë, Docteur honoris causa i Universitetit të Veliko Tarnovo-s, në Bullgari, laureat i Ministrisë së Punëve të Jashtmë të Francës, anëtar i P.E.N Club-it francez, i Shoqatës së Shkrimtarëve francezë si dhe i Shtëpisë së Shkrimtarëve dhe të Letërsisë në Francë. Poezitë e tij janë përkthyer në shumë gjuhë të huaja.

Ëshët anëtarë i Akademisë së Shkencave të Brazilit dhe Bullgarisë dhe Ambasador i Lëvizjes Poetët Botëror, Poetas Del Mundo për Evropën.


Vepra poetike
Flakërime (1970), Hije e marrëzi (1971), Polyhymnia (1981), Libri i transparencave (1981), Orë e Stinë (1981), Ti, Virgjëreshë e zjarrit (1985), ribotuar më 2001 dhe 2002, Oaz, fytyrë drite (1986), Strofa pentakorde (1986), Animula vagula, blandula (1986), Sonetet e Damaskut (1987), Elozh dritës (1987), Libër për oktavat (1987), Leptis-Minor (sonete romane), Përmbi Fjalët (1988), Anamnezë (1991), ribotim i zgjeruar(2006), Vetmia e Tridhjetë (1992), Trallisje, pasuar nga Shkëlqimet (1992), Këngë homofonike (1997), Zëra të bukur antikë (2000), Befas, një drithërimë ëngjëllore (2000), Momente përjetësie (2001), Anale dhe përshpirtje (2002), Epopteia ( Soditje sublime) 2003, Elegji (2003), Ora e Nëntë (2004), Mëshirë, o Zot! (2005), Kështu bëhen njerëzit (2006), Dhe deti kthehej në këngë (2007), Vizione zemre (2008), Edhe njëherë për poezinë hyjnore (2009).

"Kalbinin onunde bir petek vardi"

günde öğrendiğim
arasındaki ince farkı
el tutarak zincirledim ruhumu
Batıyla Doğu'nun birleştiği bir yere.

ince kanatlarında varlığımın
hatıralarımın ağırlığını taşıyacağım
tüm çağların ilahi şarkıları
ve sakat dilimin

üstlenerek taşıyacak
henüz bende eksik tanıklığı
karasal vokal şehrin
göksel konuğuna.

Keshtu fliste Tamara, ne Gjuhen Rumune nga Dr. Irina Vainovski Mihai

Aşa grăit-a Tamara


Am oblojit ochii copilului suferind
I-am şters pîcla de pe privire
Să nu-mi mai vadă dinţii rînjiţi
Şi aburul de ură din suflet

Am limpezit stratosfera de acele dezastre
Pe care părinţii lui le-au aşternut strat cu strat
Cu picături de lacrimi şi iubire
Am dezghiocat sufletele pervertite

Am conturat un zîmbet pe buzele unei reptile
Şi am făcut o piatră încremenită
Să se avînte într-un sărut

Am sorbit roua de pe petalele unui trandafir alb
Şi am numărat rubinele rodiilor coapte

Am sădit tot felul de pomi să facă fructe
Am creat locuri de joacă pentru noi toţi
Le poţi numi livezi
Sau răsadurile unei iubiri renăscute...

Fahredin Shehu, trad. Irina Vainovski-Mihai

Nga Nadwah Press i Sayed Gouda, Hong Kong

http://www.arabicnadwah.com/englishpoetry/fahredin_shehu.htm

Sayed Gouda
Born in Cairo in 1968, Sayed graduated from the Faculty of Languages in Cairo and the Beijing Languages Institute in Beijing, majoring in Chinese language. He won the faculty first prize in poetry in 1990, and published his first book of poetry in Cairo the same year. His latest book of poetry was published in Egypt recently by Merit Publishers.

Sayed has been living in Hong Kong since 1992, where he organizes a monthly Arabic poetry session. He has translated a large number of Chinese and English poems into Arabic and they were published in Akhbar Al-Adab – a literary newspaper -- in a special edition about poetry in China and Hong Kong.

Books by Sayed Gouda
Once Upon a Time in Cairo

Author's Website
Arabic Nadwah
http://www.blacksmithbooks.com/sayedgouda.htm

The Journal of the World Poets Quarterly

《世界诗人》季刊（混语版）总第58期目录
THE WORLD POETS QUARTERLY (multilingual) VOLUME No. 58 IN TOTAL CONTENTS
创刊日期：公元1995年5月8日 出版日期：公元2010年5月8日


缪斯信箱 POET’ S MAIL-BOX
第四届“蔡丽双博士·世界诗歌奖”得主名单 IPTRC 4
Voice of Kolkata Award , International Poetry Society of Kolkata, India 4

特别推荐 SPECIAL RECOMMEND
Ada Iris Juanita Cadelago（Argentina阿根廷）The Stone Mirror Second Cover封二
Jan Maruna (Czech捷克)Untitled（and another poem） Second Cover封二
Zacharoula Gaitanaki（Greece希腊）The Game of Joy Second Back 封三
Daromi a Tomawska（Poland波兰）Returns (and other two poems) Second Back 封三
Ljubomir Mihajlovski（Macedonia马其顿）Unwritten Poem（and another poem） 5
赵福君Zhao Fujun (中国China) 以为（外二首） 6
Fahredin Shehu (Kosovo科索沃) Thus spoke Tamara (and another poem) 7

国际诗坛 INTERNATIONAL POETRY
陈颖杜Chan Sirisuwat（泰国Thailand）念挚友 8
Niels Hav (Denmark丹麦) Arguments 8
Tomás ó Cárthaigh（Ireland爱尔兰）Out They Came 9
Amada García Puentes（Spain西班牙）Nada tengo 9
Luciana De Palma (Italy意大利) You Left 10
梦凌Meng Ling（泰国Thailand）没有风花雪月的日子 10
David Magradze（Georgia格鲁吉亚）The Sacrifice Horse 10
蔡丽双CHOI Lai Sheung (中国·香港Hong Kong,China) 舞蹈（外一首） 12
Mary Ann Lackovich (USA美国) Moonlight 12
Kristin Dimitrova（Bulgaria保加利亚）My Life in Squares（and another poem） 13
Luis Carlos Pereira (USA美国) You Got My Heart 14
Panagiota Christopoulou-Zaloni（Greece希腊）My leaking flute 14
林桦Lin Hua (中国China)默许（外三首） 15
Anne-Marie Legan (USA美国)What I Cannot Remember 16
Biplab Majumdar（India印度）Expectation 16
Sandra Fowler (USA美国) Autumn Friends（and another poem） 17
Alex Fleites（Cuba古巴）Waiting for a Train 17
Daouda NDIAYE（Senegal塞内加尔）To exile（and another poem） 18
史英 Shi Ying (新加坡Singapore) 迎风而亮一残灯（外二首） 19
Teresinka Pereira（Brazil巴西）World Poetry Day 20
Angéline Neveu（Canada加拿大）I am Faxing you the Rain 20
Miguel Oscar Menassa（Spain西班牙）Poetical Art（and another poem） 21
许其正Hsu Chicheng（中国·台湾Taiwan, China）半天鸟（外三首） 22
Luiza CAROL（Israel以色列）Owl Song（and another poem） 24
迪拜Di Bai (中国China) 以图灵的名义 24
Muhammad Shanazar (Pakistan巴基斯坦) The Suspended Mountain 25
绿音Green Voice (美国USA) 租借幸福 25
Susana Roberts（Argentina阿根廷）Rain 26
Sendoo Hadaa（Mongolia蒙古国）A Snow Scene 26
Manoranjan Das（India印度）My Four Sweet Areas in Imagination 27

中国诗人 POETS IN CHINA
徐江Xu Jiang（天津Tianjin）小自由之必要（外一首） 28
张强Zhang Qiang（安徽Anhui）中秋节就要到了 28
李少君Li Shaojun(海南Hainan) 早归人（外一首） 29
木兰Mu Lan (重庆Chongqing) 蝴蝶的命运 29
卧龙William Wang（河南Henan）秋雨 29
罗晖Luo Hui（广西Guangxi）秋天的物 30
梅若水Mei Ruoshui（贵州Guizhou）苦茶 30
刘翔Liu Xiang (浙江Zhejiang) 某些大海早已经干涸 31
华卫Hua Wei (四川Sichuan) 烈火与利剑 31
蔡佩珊CHUA Pui Shan Linda (香港Hong Kong) 花木兰赞 31
陈奕君Chen Yijun（福建Fujian）小说 31
谭朝春Tan Chaochun (重庆Chongqing) 网上聊天（外一首） 32
周毓明Yuming Zhou (北京Beijing) 点春 32
朱立坤Zhu Likun (湖南Hunan) 现场 33
傅智祥Fu Zhixiang (四川Sichuan) 游千岛湖 33
陈楚Chen Chu (浙江Zhejiang) 楠溪江 34
非非Fei Fei（天津Tianjin）一个人的城池 34
霍冬克Huo Dongke（河南Henan）秋天的清河 35
陆定渔Lu Dingyu（贵州Guizhou）观亚洲选秀 35
吴亮汝Wu Liangru（山东Shandong）猛士 36
黄亚洲Huang Yazhou (浙江Zhejiang) 生活是你的新娘 36
余文法Yu Wenfa (浙江Zhejiang) 辛弃疾故居 37
李晖Li Hui（甘肃Gansu）也许，不需要这么多想念 37
王德席Wang Dexi（山东Shandong）你们都是我源头的亲人 38
樵野Qiao Ye（贵州Guizhou）秋山行 38
李卓然Li Zhuoran（广东Guangdong）烟火想说的 38
陈明火Chen Minghuo（湖北Hubei) 火的诉状 39
愚聪Yu Cong (北京Beijing) 梨花 39
海烟Hai Yan (重庆Chongqing) 像情人一样接近你 39
潘神Pan（广东Guangdong）在河畔 40
陈衍强Chen Yanqiang （云南Yunnan）再写悬棺 40
陈成铎Chen Chengduo（福建Fujian）你真想回家 40

大家评论 MASTER CRITICS
R.K.Singh（India印度）BOOK REVIEW ：Whispers of the Star 41
章亚昕Zhang Yaxin (中国China) 从出门到上路：解读叶世斌的心路历程 43
张智中Zhang Zhizhong (中国China) 宁静而后致远 50

世界诗讯 WORLD POETRY NEWS
Important News《世界诗人书库》（双语对照）征稿启事 54
Notice Inviting “The Archive Centre for International Poets”本刊信息室 55
重要启事Notice本刊信息室 55
《世界诗人》稿约Notice of the World Poets to Contributors本刊编辑部 56
《世界诗人》季刊订阅表本刊编辑部 56

名家风采 PROFILES OF PERSONAGE
Ljubomir Mihajlovski（Macedonia马其顿） Cover 封面
Jan Maruna（Czech捷克） Second Cover 封二
Daromi a Tomawska (Poland波兰) Second Back 封三
Amada García Puentes (Spain西班牙) Back Cover 封底
罗晖Luo Hui (中国China) Back Cover 封底
Daouda NDIAYE (Senegal塞内加尔) Back Cover 封底
Fahredin Shehu（Kosovo科索沃） Back Cover 封底
Angéline Neveu（Canada加拿大） Back Cover 封底
David Magradze（Georgia格鲁吉亚） Back Cover 封底
Kristin Dimitrova（Bulgaria保加利亚） Back Cover 封底
许其正Hsu Chicheng (中国·台湾Taiwan, China) Back Cover 封底



《世界诗人》季刊稿约

△本刊是世界唯一的以多种语言对照出版的纯现代诗季刊，发行至一百九十多个国家，是世界诗人大会（WCP）成员、国际诗歌翻译研究中心（IPTRC）研究员、国际作家艺术家协会（IWA）会员和希腊作家艺术家国际协会（ISGWA）会员共同的发表园地。
△凡诗创作、诗论、诗话、诗人、评论家、翻译家、汉学家专访，诗坛信息、史料等，均表欢迎。
△本刊对来稿除进行技术性的处理外，一般不作删改。由于时间和人力有限，所有来稿，请提供两种或多语种的电子文本，并附个人生平与艺术简历一份、彩色照片二帧，资料不足者不予受理。E-mail：iptrc@126.com, iptrc@163.com
△来稿一律不退。如须退稿，请附足回程邮资和信封。
△所有来稿一律文责自负，对于侵犯他人版权的文字、图片，本刊概不承担任何连带责任。
△凡发表于本刊的文字、图片，本刊均拥有编选、出版权。
△欢迎投稿、欢迎订阅。凡订阅者作品，在同等艺术质量前提下，将优先选用。全年定价：美金60元、欧元60元、人民币120元（仅限中国大陆地区）。
△本刊所有出版经费均由编者自筹（即非财政拨款），纯然是一支没有薪饷的队伍，故暂无稿酬。大作一经刊布，当期寄赠作者一册。
△ 赐稿订阅地址：中国重庆市江北区观音桥邮局031信箱《世界诗人》杂志社 张智博士，邮政编码：400020。

http://blog.sina.com.cn/iptrc1995
http://pic1.netsh.com/bbs/840375/


Dr. ZHANG ZHI
The Journal of the World Poets Quarterly,
Guanyinqiao，Jiangbei District,

http://photo.blog.sina.com.cn/list/blogpic.php?pid=5f9f84d8t86338a2bf59d&bid=5f9f84d80100iybc&uid=1604289752P. R. CHINA

http://blog.sina.com.cn/iptrc1995
http://pic1.netsh.com/bbs/840375/

Loreena McKennitt- God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen

Loreena McKennitt - Sacred Shabbat

Loreena McKennitt- Carrighfergus Live

Winter Sonata - Only You (Piano & Violin Instrumental)

Secret Garden- Ode to Simplicity

Secret Garden- Cantoluna

Secret Garden- Adagio

Secret Garden- Papillon

Secret Garden - Illumination

RTK "Dhoma pa kthim, Autor Agron Krasniqi, mysafir Fahredin Shehu

Vendi im

Gurëve tek më ec në të praruara shtigje
Grurishteve të arta me lulekuqe prore
Gërvishtin qenien time të virgjër mallkueshëm
Gërshetat e shprishura nga era lajkatare ndjellin
Groteskë trishtim xanxë dhe lemeri fryme

Rrënjët në balt shohë të ngulura
Lule të bukura mbi ujë të shkulura
Hallka vathë e byzylykë të ndritur
Bukuroshe Kosova ime e stolisur

The latent “I”

Spleen was now loaded
Heavily as vineyard full of not harvested grape
I pity the nation that does not press its own grape

All plasmatic beings elegantly approached to burn
The head and the tail of the serpent
The latent “I” buried under the shade of the golden fig and
The drops of the pomegranate’s juice
In vain tempted to cure all wounds of the turbulence “Past”-s and
Aloe, balm and the royal jelly turbulence “Now”-s
While in seclusion yet the latent “I” bears Love
Since it shall write for the upcoming prophet
He writes since he believes in miracle
By each lovely word he utters
The gate opens the “All” may hear heavenly shriek and
The distance shortens
To kiss the epithelium of the heart and
By each word he utters
A prejudice dismantles in one blast
To see the rainbow from the burnt of its particles and
All the black holes queued in the cosmic cord
To make the necklace for Sophia eternal
The bride of the eternal groom
That embraces the Seen the Semi- Seen and the Unseen.

My wishful thinking…

I fully embrace the lights of all sources
Mixing tears with the blue flame
Abandoning all human fears
Encroaching the grass of all darkest green
Smelling running water at the bank of the Nile
Receipted in the Onyx foyer surrounded by
Unfurled rainbow muslin roll with gold color encrypted
Formulas for Love intoxicated entities
Am I?
Such befuddled to melt as a snowflake
When the sun ray sings its quatrain
And perfume it with the fresh scent
Of angels’ armpit
And all Seraphs laugh in unison
For all lost “I-s”

Jose Carreras En Aranjuez Con Tu Amor

Omar khairat in Ljubljana concert - Slovenia 3rd part "the sorceress&the...

Egyptian Musician " OMAR KHAIRAT " - Fatima

A place in the heart -Omar Khairat

Fadia el hage - kyrie فاديا الحاج

If I was an Alien

Would I approach the human?
To knock in the doors of yesterday, and
Mature before my sweat get icy scale
Catch the plait of visible sky with stars embroidered, and
Appear as a child with the eyes that shows the abundance inside

To touch goose bombs in his heart membrane, and
Pamper the nest of the stars in between two eyebrows
Smell the grape pollen from his eyelashes, and
Offer the goblet full of freshly pressed pomegranate
Hear the sound of his breath, and
Get in the front of his shadow
Absorb the rays of his rainbow aura, and
Sing in unison the universal melody that vibes LOVE

RTK- Emisioni KULT- Lumira Kelmendi- Intervistë me Fahredin Shehu

Primordial "I"

19 layers of textile’s mist have folded the “I”
Watching from the distance
It looks bizarrely captured
We are in exile
With love intoxicated

Humanity shall see the rainbow
We emit from all “I- s”
The primordial “I” emerged amidst the crowd of human
To articulate love
Infra mezzo and ultra visible
With the velocity of the most knowledgeable Angel
The sages named NUN and rejoice the eternity and
A day after
To transfer wisdom for the Thirsty Souls
We are the thirsty souls and
We approach humbly
The icy jet of the eternal spring

Perkthimi nga Munir Mezyed

http://www.facebook.com/reqs.php?fcode=89fa62ad3&f=1630998071#!/photo.php?pid=57057&id=100001315100501&comments&alert&ref=notif¬if_t=photo_comment_tagged

Unusual I and The tiny mysteries

The hand of mercy sprinkled
A golden dust over and over
The lips of wisdom spoke silence
The womb of planet bears progeny
A spark of diamond in the dew of my tear
Boiling one
A drop of it to melt the ice cube of your heart
Usual you and usual I
As waterfall from the top of the hill
Lofty unusual I
Stands bewildered and obtuse
An oxymoron
That wants to examine
Here in its lab
Alas Love
And God forbid
We dry out slowly and sure
Homo nuovus has its saying
“Unless you are in love
You have no right to approach the unknown”








The tiny mysteries
He was telling me the mystery of Mispha
And the lingam washed with the milky water
Remained still

I came to a place called knowledge
Got aware of my ignorance

She was telling me the mystery of Delphi
And the white pigeon spoke in vein
From the heaven down to the isle

I came to a place called will
Moved heart- stones and multitude of passion

You were telling me the mystery of Gabriel
And the sounds of tiny bells
Under the myriads of flame rainbow wings

I came to a place called Love
Built my settlement of beloved and
The praying room in the middle
Of the temple
And I stand contrite
For all lost YOU

LoreenaMcKennitt-Sacred shabbat

The Mysterious World Of Loreena McKennitt

Deployment of fathom and Eternal present

Deployment of fathom

Master died all of sudden
We died prior to metamorphosis of butterfly
Our children again set the chess table
This time in cube
A silent shriek warns
Intelligencer bows its bones and flesh statue
In the front of place
Where the master use to sit
My two years old daughter shocked me again and thus in serial
Speechless she claim
Dad I love you but I don’t know why
Nor do I
I respond as certified imbecile
The constellation of Sagittarius in miniature
Found its space in my forehead
To send beams straight
To my hypothalamus and nurture it splendidly
Jupiter violates the territory of mortals
I’m the one alike
A yellow topaz bears nano- formula
A seed for another thousand years
We rejoice earthly wisdom
The noetic’ mock us
As we were mere single cell creatures
Yet unaware of their derision
Yet beyond all exoteric’
Prays in the altar of experiment
Full of breakable paraphernalia
We remain in the middle






Eternal present

Unless you become beautiful
You have no right to approach Beauty

If the one longs only for flowers
I shall bloom at once the entire spring

Until you leave the future behind
There’s no mere chance you make thou art a living influence

If I long only for eternal unknown
I tell you again I break this goblet
Into fragments and resurrect as phoenix
Then from my new goblet you may drink
Unpolluted vine
With the lips of deadly curse

Then my Art is for real

The Gown

A neon- color cornucopia gurgles as spring
Standing in the middle
I remain overwhelmed
Nano- metric particles embraces sinful population
Of cells absorbed by light
It’s Zephyr that transports souls
Nowhere else you may see
Lifted up, up, up they bear
Nuptials to the gaps of heaven but
The entrance pearly macadam
Krypton threshold and cedar wood gate
Golden latch opens to host guests
The bride…is I glimmered?
Heavy walk I started as death angel
Walks on earth
Aerial walk now steps far
In advance as seraph I wear
The gown lightly embroidered
With knots curls sparks and pearls
Of the ionic thread
Light is as feather its weight
Light I as bubble about to burst
Light as happiness my momentum
We levitate above golden leaf wheat field
Seeing our shadows beneath
Our heavily impregnated cubic souls
We see the footprints of malicious
Who encroached our shadow when
The sun was as God adored and
Stand in the front of us
Anyway we undress the gown
Naked souls in unison
Sing dance and rejoice
Wash at the bank of milky river
The mantle of the Green Man waits
Our essentials wait too
To fill and go in procession
To celebrate eternals

Editred.

TH World Poets Quarterly

THE WORLD POETS QUARTERLY (multilingual) VOLUME No. 58

The Sound of Poetry Review

http://thesoundofpoetryreview.wordpress.com/2010/04/26/fahredin-shehu-kosovar-poet/







Fahredin Shehu, Kosovar PoetFahredin Shehu, poet/essayist, born in Rahovec, South East of Kosova, in 1972. Graduated at Prishtina University, Oriental Studies follows M.A. in Literature. Actively works on Calligraphy discovering new mediums and techniques for this specific form of plastic art. To know more about this poet, read here: http://fahredin-sh.blogspot.com/

Featured Poetry of Fahredin Shehu



The army of nobodies

They’ve encroach the grass of the neighbor’s territory
I was not the neighbor that sowed saplings of Sycamore tree
My pomegranate garden
Unfolded leafs and showed luxurious fertility
And brought the Balm of Gilead
Straight from Parsifal right in the center of the orchard
A huge shadow ficus religiosa
You may circle around
Exactly one thousand years in a row
But they will not allow you to enlighten
Amidst them I was crowded
Absorbing consciously
The odor of their emptiness
Yet I shall recite again the 99th Psalm of Celestial Intelligencer

Pity myself
Scars on my face
Each time I forgot to mention God’s name by every breathe taking
Conscious process
I may sing Joy
Oh pity nobodies yet you are unable to feel what you possessed in your veins
In vain I may call freedom
To establish its conquest but you are the pity ones that swallowed
All your dreams and hopes

Elixir

There’s only a dew of elixir in the bottom of the empty cup sleeping as lamb
Now they call it heart, I call it polluted spirit, and you may call it ruby pomegranate granules
But we the simplest so called human entities jointly may only Love and this is sufficient
To suffer for the thousand years and a day more

The one who cares not is the luckiest mundane ignorant but I’m the one alike who outpours his quintessential not knowing for whom
Not knowing for what reason a purpose never show its glamour in advance
For warning, for love or even for sake of its purest manifestation

In times when words were queued in the thread abundantly curved in bobbin from the human scalp
The necklace of verse is fading its shine no sparkling truths gurgles from its spring to obey our thirsts
We the thirsty souls for divine morsel wandering in here as the spirits of suicide victims
Empty stomachs of enfant terrible only for the grasp of the truth they never hear even as the sound of insect
Never as the sound of falling frozen spirit in jade that you may later see as the Galatea of divine maternal essence
A cornucopia of latent blessings waits
A deficit of Love outbursts proudly displaying its genitalia without a drop of shame
I wander as a working bee searching for the nectar of wisdom to feed my Queen bee
And bestow her eternal life with the royal jelly leaking elegantly from the bottom to the navel

Charged circle

Black

Empty cans
No liquid evaporated
In the air full of pride
Polluted grains of soul
Lost their consistency
Pure fluids of light
Erupts as marshmallow bombs
Death squad penetrates deeply
Aiming to meet Anubis
A Tsunami whirled its wish
Passion and glutton declared independence
The dream of becoming a parallel nation
To co-habit with leukemia of creativity
A sex drive 4×4 retired
A crippled veteran of passion
Bags for the mercy of soulless utilitarian army of human entity
Better said plankton a homo-plankton of miserable creatures
Even worms and larva are disgusted by our hatred
Fecal, a skunk of fear
An eclipse of love that spans for ages
From birth to death
A spectrum displays its ripeness
Ejaculates liberty as blast
A dazzling dance of shaped and amoeboid forms of manifestation
Truth
Bitter the honey with suffer
Powder a chamomile with royal jelly and ginseng
All of sudden a wind blows
Spores of the old pines

White

The soul of parallel nation of Angeloid
Is striving pleasure of life?
Lives now
Perpetually woofs a rainbow muslin with the divine light
Inter-woofed dress
Newborn immaculate fellows
Perfuming
Oh those smell of paradise
Mint, Neroli, Oakmoss, Amber
A bouquet of divine pleasure
And Acacia kissed by a queen bee
Yes the queen of Enneagram
Of course
The work produces sweet essences
Oh Sarmouni of our Millennia
Melt the cataract-ic lance so they may see the beauty
Heal the flu so they may smell fresh ozone
A charged circle of light and love
Overwhelm
Remove the pulp from the reed
So may divine tune perform light?
Tao
May be your torchbearer
In the dark valley and by then you may see a spectrum
That encircles an infant fear
For an eternal life
Yet I kiss that that time sequence
Where Jin and Jang harmoniously co-habit
I a Feng Shui of Love
Defragmenter of hate’s files
Zipper of dark matrixes
Arranger
So you may know they do exists
So you try them in order to enjoy the sweetness of life’s honey
In this porcelain valley
Where goodness and mischief
Hand in hand are gliding furiously
Alas pure the morning with dew of love
Oxidize hate with apple vinegar
Sing to celebrate both solstices and have a cup of vine
That swoon you
That filters all starry
Cells of brain and ganglia
Perfume her navel with rosewater and kiss, kiss, kiss
Do a divine Tantra
With all visible and invisible and semi-visible spirits
Kiss topaz of her eyes
Kiss ruby of her heart
Kiss diamond of her nail
Kiss cooper of her feet ankle
Kiss jade of her bones
Kiss sapphire of her cells
And a flame-y waterfall of hair
And a silky pubic…
Oh…kiss and kiss and kiss whatever belongs to her
Make her a necklace
With your purest and noblest spermatozoids
Then call her as you wish
Wisdom, Hikkmah*, Sophia**
Or simply Goddess that makes you Angeloid.

—-
* Arabic for wisdom, we disregard language we are concentrated on substance on quint essence
** Greek for wisdom

Theophany

You kiss me and stamp my existence
I kiss you and melt in God’s essence

The granular spittle that remains in my throat
A long day between winter and spring
My state known only by friends few of them
My Love felt by every creature
The bastards that sprinkles with their hatred
And those that converts their names and faith
This suffocating visible plurality of creatures and bizarre manifestations
My spiritual nervation has strengthened
Soul cells are dancing the muttered nation’s dance called Love
Those who make sex in the air as flies’ foals hatred babies
Can you kill babies is our question
We the invisible plurality of divine creatures and manifestations
We the perpetual Theophany coruscate in pure hearts
As Sun in the dews of mornings full of vetyver, ambergris, limonene, fragrance and a slight skunk of civet, moschus and the sweat men by labor exhausted
We speak we sing we paint
With the act without exhaling a syllable from our holly mouths
We sprinkle with the aureate dust
Straight we look at Saturn ring color eyes and the color of peacock tale feather
We built a cube temple and play chess in cube
We love the terrain where the guests of Moses and Lot before him had passed through
We sing with Seraph of high realms we sing in sync
Here we bring joy in hearts of those who encroached in procession through emerald macadam
Where you seldom pass
We know by heart the Al Jaffr and ten Sefirots and we read the Liber Razielis
We accompanied Adam Kadmon in his solitude prior to separation and embodiment in terrain that will be bloodied by human through centuries
We have said to John to go in the river Jordan baptize the Christ and lead him on
For those who knows a little
We said to Waraka to prepare Muhammad to become the leader of those who seek the truth
We said to Bahaullah to explain men to take after women and the mother Earth
Otherwise in upcoming millennium the solely food of them shall be kernels and water
We said to Gibran commence the Theurgy for upcoming millennium being as solely artistic repose for creative men
We said to Fahredin write as much as possible and hush as a canyon stone
Until he finds his echo point
We…

Eternal something…

The world will follow your steps
Discovering the mysteries of roses
Emerged from your footsteps

It’ll watch the image where
Your face will nourish
The cost of their glutton

They will see in your forehead
The blood-dots under epidermis
The prints of Sagittarius constellation
Amidst the shores of emerald sparkling leafs
Life-giving leafs
Remained after a serial blasts
They’ll wander
They’ll build the Tabernacle for their progeny
They’ll learn the lesson
The primordial one
They have forgotten through eons
And reunion with the ether-ic double
Somewhere wandering
In the vast space of cosmos
The visible and invisible
The perceptible and imperceptible

They will understand that they are now
Hardly human to rejoice in their small community

Everything will be different

A mandrake for love

Bursts of desires only shows
How much terrestrial my soul
Became rude and even vulgar
Was it mingled with all so called human?
And got their color
To utilize its aptitudes of adaptability
Yes it was
A merchant
Pure miser
No love to flourish so far
Awaiting a breeze in equatorial heat
A desert of remnants
Ashes and bones
A carbon valley so visible
No possibility to burn again
Roots of poisonous plants has assembled forces
Yet love transforms them into honey
A mandrake for love has been bought
By a longing parent
A mother
A goddess of love
To heal all, all, all…
Wounds manlike creatures
Commissioned to dismay the cosmic spark
As in a fertile soil sowed
In a flesh
The body
The human body they call
And to decay it
For eternity and a day more

Terracotta

Assembled forces
Around the heaven of the Moon
The heaven of Gabriel the Holy
Influences the beings
Fragile to death
Who can pull out the geese bird?
From the clay pot
Without breaking it
Not the life’s ignorant disciple
Nor the Sisyphean planetary orphan
Neither the life’s exhausted ascetic
A key-maker a treasury holder

Yet I do want to embrace the whole
Visible and invisible entities
You may celebrate your prodigy
And mock my naivety
And immeasurable love
I’ll do this until I dry
As a dew
Until I become a piece
Missing from terracotta
Kept for ages in the sand of Baghdad
Where Shamash made crisps from
The skin of the humans
So they may think they’re
Reptiles
Red eye killers

The Emerald Macadam

I have passed through
The narrow canyons of cerebrum
While listening odes of mature cells
Vibrating slowly
And a fresh Pine resin, Oak moss and fresh Ozone winded my hairs
Inside my nose
Plugged my alveolus ready to burst of indescribable pleasure
I’ve heard sounds of sprinkling blood
From my wounded feet
Leaving blueprint of the thirsty soul…
For
Knowledge, Wisdom and Enlightenment
That slowly bows in a front of God
Only by us called LOVE
In an emerald macadam to show the path
To the following procession of creatures
From all Gurdijeffian Octaves
Which as a golden fig are blossoming from within?

You may call me outpour of passion
And you’ll not be mistaken

You may call me lanolin extracted from merino
And you’ll not be mistaken

You may call me a broken porcelain soldier
And you’ll not be mistaken

You may call me a bee that soaks the nectar from thousands of roses
And you’ll not be mistaken

You may call me a yellow topaz
A child of carbon
And you’ll not be mistaken

You may call me a felt petal of the white rose
And you’ll not be mistaken

You may call me believer who prays for the sins of human multitude
And you’ll not be mistaken

You may even call me human that mix with angels unaware of his innocence
And you’ll not be mistaken

But I know
I know spirit does not have a gender
The wind misses the color
The grass is painted green by transparent rain
Alchemy is a transformation of mother’s milk into blood
Heaven is nature and man is Hell
But the Mother is God in Heaven and Earth
Thus I’m hardly a human.

Questions of Angeloid

Am I plain stone?
To be thrown far from the eyesight

Am I skin of the tiger
To be stepped by soulless merchant

Am I blood soaked by relative fellow?

Am I a lost tribe’s leader?
To be adored as saint

Am I lost prophet?
To be searched in caves where the Jinni settled his colony

Am I a Jurassic fossil?
To be displayed in a crystal cube

Am I a jasmine essence?
To be smelled after third millennium

Am I lost planet
The curse of mankind

Am I paradigm of goodness?
To be diminished by surrenderance

Am I perfect mischief?
To be hailed as a Gospel chant

Am I wing of purple angel
To bring you shade
While you search for knowledge

Am I supersensible tune?
To be played by enlightened heartstring

Am I aerial spirit?
To bring you storm
In a midday when the sun
Reads its quatrain

Am I a cosmic fluid?
To be dispersed as a star dust

Am I divine enough?
To rejoice for a cosmic harmony

Am I the bell from the angel’s wings?
To bell the beginning of a new prophecy

Am I a saint that shows hardly his miracle?
To be later adored as Godling

Am I pure water from the desert’s spring?
To be drunk on the moment of death

Am I death of Art?
To be reborn by Theurgy

Am I a drunken lover in Love?
To be perished in the quantum of photon

Am I stupid to reveal a new discovery?
So you may pity or
You may salute and laude
And so, and so, and so on.

Bewilderment of Alien

Demons are mocking us
Angels are compassioning us
Aliens are bewildered why these…
Are killing each other?

Copyright © 2010 Fahredin Shehu
©Photo by Bruno Fert* – Paris

* Bruno Fert, Winner of second prize, World Press Photo


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Possibly related posts: (automatically generated)

Felino Soriano, American Poet
Brandon S. Roy, American Poet
Poetry From The Heart
the sorrow within the eyes.
Posted in Kosovar Literature, literature, poems, poetry, writing | Tags: Fahredin Shehu