Grey Scale, Nigeria

THURSDAY, JUNE 30, 2011
LET THE POET SPEAK (GUEST POET AND BLOGGER: Fahredin Shehu)
GUEST POET AND BLOGGER: Fahredin Shehu

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 4x4 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[1], Sophia[2]
Or simply Goddess that makes you Angeloid.




Sweet little Roma
I crossed the stone bridge and listened the gurgle of white river’s water beneath
And the Church staying proudly next to the Mosque as mirror to see her beauty
The fountain of drinking water from the top of the cold hills flowing benevolently
Surrounded by the buzzing manlike creatures unaware of the burden they carry
A approached a different mendicant than my eyes use to capture as camera obscura
The boy was drinking Coke and happily smiling to the crowd yet in his eyes
The azure blue formed a net for the lovers, human and celestial beings alike
As spider waiting for the victim that would proudly kiss the star in his forehead
The day was happy to find me there slightly confused by the spring’s breeze
I was happy to be there and embrace the Coke drinking boy sweet as all boys in the world
The angels that warns us to Love unbiased




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.




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...

[1] Arabic for wisdom, we disregard language we are concentrated on substance on quint essence
[2] Greek for wisdom…
Posted by Onyenezi Chika Victor onyenezichika at 5:27 AM
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Labels: Chika Onyenezi, Fahredin Shehu, Guest, Poetry

Emir Sokolovic

Broadcasting Live with Ustream.TV
Zadovoljstvo mi je da Vas "pozovem", obzirom na fizičku udaljenost, da zajedno "prisustvujemo" promociji stihozbirke "Lako je jurišati na nebo koje ćuti..." putem direktnog video prenosa,
u terminu 28. aprila 2011. u 19:00 sati.
Promocija će se održati u predivnom prostoru hotela "Zenica" u Zenici. Ovom prigodom se u ime gostiju i lično ime zahvaljujem na razumijevanju i nesebičnoj podršci menadžmenta i osoblja hotela.
Promotori:
- Spasoje Ž. Milovanović;
- Spasoje Spremo i
- Sead Pašić. Specijalni gosti:
- trio "Amorosso"


«APOKALIPSA» - konačno i u Sarajevu...
U sklopu 4. Novosarajevskih međunarodnih večeri poezije koje su se održale u Sarajevu u periodu od 11.11.2010 do 13.11.2010. godine projekat «Apokalipsa» je zaslužio i dobio autonoman prostor za predstavljanje. Uz pomenuto, sa pjesmom «Diadema» zastupljen sam u Zborniku susreta koji nosi naziv «Kapija istoka i zapada» koji je tom prigodom i promovisan. (http://www.kns.ba/s/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=803&Itemid=61)

Lemongrass

Lemongrass

From the armpit of an Angel
I took a lump of essence
I dissolved it in the tear
From the face of eternity
I made a smell
For the progeny of the Beloved

The wanderer returned
The journey was real adventure
Upon his settlement at the shore
The seagull reckoned
The krypton green patch offshore

I approached and entered in
The Gown was ready to be bestowed
I was not ready to accept
As the infant face bears
The eyes of the senile
From the dark green forests
Full of resins, oak moss and
The Golden bow

I escaped this manifestation
I found myself in the valley
Heard the echo of the weeping willow
Smelt the lemongrass, Violet, Daisy and
The wild orchid that bears the pistils
Of Saffron

Love…!
Human gave so much pain and
This confession is not a complaint
I just want to show you
Only
The path of heart I went through

I just want to remind you of
The room of seclusion you may break
The walls human built up and
The heart is the dimension with
The heavy gravity; you go through and
After you only a spectrum radiates

The bonds of Knowledge may stretch
To the borders of the heart and
The chains of Destiny may
Melt in the presence of divine
Just as snowflake melts in the warmth
Of the spring in the petal
Of the snowdrop and
The leaf of healing fragrant
Of the lemongrass

DIOGEN plus...

PRIČATI PJESMI?!

Bogohulno stremeći odgovoru na iskazane želje, Fahredin Shehu pronalazi vlastito putovanje unutar iskazanih želja kreaciji težeći.

Kakvoj?

Isprepletenosti riječi, misli i težnji. Ne bilo kakvih: Iskrenih, nepatvorenih emocija ljubavi što streme. Ni jednoga trenutka ne želeći zanemariti činjenicu da on "priča pjesmu", on "pjesmi priča".

Kako?

Pretačući sopstvena nadahnuća bogatstvom metafore unutar pretpostavljenih činova?

Da. I više od toga: Znakovito naglašavajući veličinu drugoga nauštrb sopstvenih nadanja. Uvjeren da time pomaže sebi da konačno razumije sopstvenu osobnost. U drugome. Radi sebe.

Dok ga čitamo između redova. Jer on tome i teži.

Ponovo. Radi sebe.

I, ponekad, radi nas.

Čitalaca, njegovih.



Riječ urednika

TALKING TO THE POEM?!

Striving towards blasphemous response to the expressed wishes, Fahredin Shehu finds his journey within the stated desire of creation seeking.

What kind?

Entanglement of words, thoughts and aspirations. and not just any: sincere, genuine emotion which aspires towards love. Not even for a moment not wanting to ignore the fact that he "talks poetry, " he "is talking to the poem".

How?

Transfusing his own inspiration with the richness of the metaphor out of implied acts?

Yes. And even more: Significantly emphasizing the size of other detriment of his own hopes. Convinced that with this helps himself to finally understand his own personality. In the other. Because of himself.

While we read between the lines. Because he is heading towards that.

Again. Because of himself.

And, sometimes, because of us.

Readers, of his.




Editor's word

Grey Scale by Chika Onynezi, Nigeria

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 29, 2011
NEXT GUEST blogger and FEATURED Author on Grey scale!

I know you don't want to miss this, Fahredin Shehu an established poet will sweep us away with his skill as a guest blogger and featured Author on Grey Scale. You better don't miss this blog. believe me there is a part of poetry you haven't seen. there a skills far from your reach. this Poet Ambassador Fahredin Shehu has it all. For now i will go back to daily job, that is designing graphics. have a nice day friends.Please read his curriculum vitae below:

Marriage

Laguna of the tinny pearls
As was as Atlantic and
The heavy palm-leafs
Singing the hidden tune of the wind
I found a conic empty shell
Echoing your name

I still bear in mind
Your offering of the celestial harvest
And the red corral of your necklace
Shining the crystallized blood
The hair; a liquid ebony and
The dress of emerald seaweed

I started to miss a word and
The Peacock feather
I write on Love; only
Disappeared in the darkness
Of the jealous hole

The smell of Iodine all around
Evaporating salt from my Soul’s Ocean
Spreads wishes, whims, longings and
Belongings in an air of your sky

I still recall a white pigeon and
A gold-neb Pelican to bite
My flesh and feed her bird

I still wait the wing-stretched Eagle
To bring the snowdrop circlet
From the Middle Earth for
Our wedding and the Kolibri
Sings silently the repentance
Of my Calla lily

My lips are dry; and my Soul is thirsty
Sophia came to kiss your Pistis
Despite the envy of the evil
I stand powerful as water
I disregard all those who can’t feel but
Ponder instead; on my words and
Never get a clue
Come and meet my longing; who
Demands nothing more than
Surrenderance
There you may see the blooming of
The holy mystery as
In unison we make Tantra
A reality; the sacral wedding
Miraj; a reality
Since we went through the Heaven and Hell
So we have fear no more.

We passed through: Knowledge, Destiny and Love
Together beyond Eternity and its dwellings

We are strongly attached to
The Golden cord of Heaven

We realized that God is everything but
Everything isn’t God

Under the Peach tree

Heaven tore apart
Heart bore rainbow
Soul firms the crystalline

Today lasts the bliss
Amaranthine blooms tomorrow

We awoke dormant hopes
We evoke celestial siblings
We summon uninhabited spirits
Under the Peach tree shade

Sybil plays the lyre and
The strings made of golden hairs
The goat fleece shines
Mild melody ceases every pain
For those who sing and
For those who sing not; equally
For those who hear and have
No flu; enjoying the Jasmine odor
Lavender and Iris embracing
The assembly; under the shade of
The peach tree; collecting
The drops of Beauty;
Tears of eternity in goblets
Made of Amethyst and
The Platinum lid
To seal the liqueur
For the next platoon of Love martyrs
It may be you dear it may be you
And you and you; who drink
This Elixir

All I expect is you open
The bud of your being
So I may put a solely drop
So the clear light of Bliss
Overwhelms and folds
Your innocence; protects it
From the sinner, and
Its permanent malice

Art of Tanbour Part II: Exploring the Music of Ostad Elahi (1895-1974)

The Life & Work of Ostad Elahi - Part 1

Lotfi, Sehtar

Shahram Nazeri - Flames of Love

Niyaz - Beni Beni!

Niyaz- Dilruba HQ

Cheikh Hamza Chakour : Syrian Master of the mystical song

Ross Daly ft. Zohar Fresco

Roza Eskenazi - Apopse an theleis (1936)

La nuit de la St. Barthelemy - Goran Bregovic

I don’t care if your eyes are blue

As the days are passing
I grow old and my hair
From gray to cosmic blue transforms
Every crook I met so far
Dispel out of fear
Throughout the holes of the earth

In my presence the snowflake celebrates
Its coldness and its beauty
The Sun sings the happiest song ever

I don’t care if your eyes are blue
And your day is black

Nor do I care
If you hate me not
Or if you hate me just...or
Disappointed you were recently

My absence is a punishment where
You saw the seeds of your disgrace

Now after I release you
From the ties of my grace;
Amazing and Divine
As angelic as it may be
You are free to beg for
Mercy all around

To travel or even to hate others
Unselectively; only if you are aware

You disappointed God, your parents
Siblings and finally me

When you walk
The chlorophyll turns yellow
The dog walks sneaky with
The tail curved in between
The last two extremities

The pearl looses its shine and
The diamond fogs its surface
Rosemary hides its odor
Only her name remains

Bitter is the honey
In the mouth of those
Around you

Bitter is the kiss
Of the embraced
Youth even if
You don’t greet them

The milk turns yoghurt and
The wine becomes vinegar

Women you hardly are
For the God sake
Your powers are so destructive
While you enjoy in crime and
Strongly believe in your
Innocence

Fatal is the day
Oh… most fatal women
I ever met

Silhouette of memory

Photo captured by Howard High


I use to see your face
On the face of the full Moon
Salute the falling star
Waiting for your message
Or even a call to ease my pain

Nothing but attack I got
I got nothing but wound
With the tenses that past
For your last suite

I used to clean the mirror
And see your face instead

I was absent as I’m now
Lost in the pain
For the suffering of my
Cosmic body

Absent while you maneuver
Others and malfeasant yourself
Enough so I may only
Pity you

I told you
It’s hard to be a Man
Again I repeat
It’s hard to be a man
A kind of Jesus

That broke your hidden Cross
And caused maladies
As concrete as stone

The velvet of my word
Brought to you nothing
But protection

The pearl of my patience
Brought you hope when
Even your cells started
To abandon you

My silky voice was a cure
For your inner pain
You hide as sin and
My appearance was
The manifestation
Of inherited Icon

Today in my face
You see nothing
But a silhouette
While your azure eyes
Turned crimson

Tomorrow I’ll be only
The one you see his
Back-shoulder but
Your tongue shall search
The missing teeth inside
Your mouth

Tomorrow and the day after
You’ll see the previous Giant
That bowed to your lie
As in a front of Mispha
Not because of incoherence
But out of mercy and bliss

You taught me how
To refuse people and
You failed to teach me that

I taught you how to
Embrace instead and
I realized
I failed and I regret for
The times I lost in vain
While my God
Swear in Time.

Feastivali i Poezisë Orlan 22-25 Qershor

Ragip Luta, Fahredin Shehu, Jenifer Langer, Alev Adil, Naime Beqiraj, Avdullah Konushevci etc

LA PÁGINA DE ANDRÉS MORALES

LA PÁGINA DE ANDRÉS MORALES
La página de Andrés Morales (1962), poeta y académico chileno, es un blog de apuntes abierto a todos aquellos interesados en la literatura y, en especial, en la poesía. Contiene poemas, artículos, notas, comentarios, críticas, reseñas, fotografías y en general, todos los tópicos imaginables e inimaginables en torno a la poesía y la literatura chilena, hispanoamericana, española y europea de todas las épocas y estilos.
Cargando...
"Soy un bicho de la tierra como cualquier ser humano, con cualidades y defectos, con errores y aciertos, -déjenme quedarme así- con mi memoria, ahora que yo soy. No quiero olvidar nada."

José Saramago
domingo 26 de junio de 2011

POEMAS DE FAHREDIN SHEHU (KOSOVO) EN INGLÉS

Signore, non mi abbandonare...

Signore, non mi abbandonare....
di Fahredin Shehu
traduzione di Mario Rigli


La malvagità umana
Inietta odio e
Il mio corpo pieno di forza,
Il cuore benedetto di pazienza,
Uniscono il ritmo.

Ho ancora un lavoro da fare;
Guarire le malattie che mi attraversano
L'anima; cristallizzata in una parola
Tu leggi; ma quale pietà!

Ho ancora una preghiera da recitare;
Per accendere la nicchia del tuo cuore,
Scuro come zircone nero,
Con l'olio benedetto di Galilea,
Del mio regno

Signore, non mi abbandonare ...

Devo ancora dormire
Per il nemico mentre si sforza
Di fare un buco in una cascata;
E accanto lo Spirito
Si estende con le ali che fanno ombra,
mentre leggo
Le scritture dei martiri
Per l'uomo migliore



Così come guarisco con l'amore
Così meticolosamente lo nascondo;
Ciò che l'Umano chiama "peccato"
E l'Anima accanto
Come fresco ombroso albero dell'eterno;
Dove le labbra
Incontrano la fronte e
Luccica un'altra stella
Per il nascituro.

Signore, non mi abbandonare...

Così voglio insegnare
Quale splendida creatura hai fatto
E l '"io" accanto; il raggio diffusore
Della bellezza
Mostra il valore della Gratitudine
Per l'indotto in errore.

Signore, non mi abbandonare...

Oggi sono le mie nozze
Con i tuoi Attributi
All'unisono gioiremo
per l'eternità ed un giorno ancora.




Lord, rest me not…!

The malice human
Injects hatred, and
My body full of strength;
The heart blessed with patience,
Conjoin the pace.

I have yet a work to do;
To heal the maladies through
My soul; crystallized in a word
You read; the pity one!

I have yet a prayer to perform;
To light the niche in your heart,
As dark as zircon,
With the blessed oil of Galilee
Of my realm

Lord, rest me not…

I have yet to sleep
For the enemy while he strives
To make a hole in the waterfall;
And the Spirit beside
With the shade-making wings
He stretches; while I read
The scriptures of the martyrs
For the better human

Lord, rest me not…

As I heal with Love and
Meticulously hide this as;
What the Human calls the “Sin”
And the Soul beside
As fresh- shaded tree of eternal;
Where the lips
Meet the forehead and
Sparks another star
For the unborn

Lord, rest me not…

As I want to teach
What beautiful creature You made
And the “I” beside; the ray- spreading
Beauty
Shows the value of Gratitude
For the mislead.

Lord, rest me not…

Today is my wedding
With your Attributes
The unison we shall rejoice
for eternity and a day more.

“NJË TREN PËR BLLACE”

http://gazeta-nacional.com/web/?p=77
“NJË TREN PËR BLLACE”
Recension

Ilire Zajmi dhe Filippo Landi
Që nga titulli Tunel e deri tek ISBN-ja në anën e pasme të ballinës, librin të cilin e mbaj në dorë, më erdhi si zhivë në aortë.
Kur them titulli Tunel e kam fjalën para se gjithash për një rrugë të cilën autorët e panë si shteg që çuaka drejt në parajsën e quajtur Bllace.
Kur them Zhivë- e kam fjalën për librin i cili më erdhi si bulë mallkimi në kohën kur ende po rehabilitohesha nga ato që personalisht kam përjetuar në të dy ofensivat serbe në Rahovec.
Ilire Zajmi dhe Filippo Landi kanë shkruar atë që kanë parë, dhe për atë që kanë përjetuar dhe sfilitur në kohën e vështirë për Kosovën, për të na rikujtuar serikisht për të ligat, që i sjell lufta. Natyrisht, luftërat nuk kanë diminutiv, andaj po t’i bashkëngjitesha edhe unë këtij libri, ky do të ishte dukshëm më voluminoz.
Në vitin 2005 isha në një kongres në Kajro mbi Politikën, fenë, arrogancën dhe shtetin në kontekst të veprës së Ibn Khaldonit, ku kam përmendur rastin e shpërbërjes së ish Jugosllavisë. Audienca është tmerruar gjatë diskutimit tim pas kumtesës, se deportimi i shqiptarëve përtej kufirit i ngjau eksodit biblik të Mojsiut nga zullumi i Ramzesit II, duke i shtuar kësaj se bota demokratike nuk mund të qëndroj duarkryq dhe të bëj sehir derisa ende kundërmonte gjaku i Srebrenicës, për çka edhe pasuan bombardimet e NATO-s. Ata në Egjipt ende i besonin një Jugosllavie e cila ka derdhur gjak që nga Sllovenia, në Kroaci nëpër Bosnje për të përfunduar në Kosovë. Një shtet, i cili si është formuar artificialisht për të përfunduar si gjakderdhje më e madhe në Evropën e fundshekullit të XX. Se lobi hebre në SHBA, e identifikoi këtë eksod të Kosovarëve si eksod biblik dhe loboi bindshëm për bombardime, këtë e kam thënë troç, në çka pasuan shumë reagime. Pikërisht kjo më tmerroi mua.
Duke i pasur parasysh të gjitha këto, kujtoj se, nuk ka qenë lehtë të gjendesh në Rahovec. Këtë e kanë vërtetuar edhe Ilire Zajmi dhe Filippo Landi, ndërsa unë për t’i ikur çmendisë, lexoja librat e çmendur, kam fjalën për librat e OSHO Rajneesh, si librat e vetme të mbijetuar nga Lufta, sepse ishin të fshehur tek motra në pjesën tjetër të qytezës. Ato sapo i lexoja m’i ndërronte nëna kur i shkonte në vizitë motrës.
Çdo mëngjes shikoja çerdhen dhe një kumri, e cila kishte rënë klluq në dardhën që e kishte mbjellur gjyshi nga ana e nënës.
NATO bombardonte, serbët bënin regjistrimin e popullatës shqiptare, të shohin edhe sa kanë mbetur, ashtu që të planifikojnë më mirë kë ta dëbojnë e kë ta vrasin.
Në ditën e 70 të bombardimeve humba çdo shpresë se do të bëhet mirë.
Emri i Xhejmi Sheas u mësua jo vetëm nga njerëzit, por edhe nga murrët. Të gjithë e dëgjonin. Frymëmarrja ishte e rëndë dhe pothuaj e pandjeshme.
Profesoresha ime e biologjisë Elmaze Kadiri motra e profesorit Bardhyl Qaushi, pas torturave dhe vrasjes ne fund edhe u masakrua e Zoja e shpisë Tahibe Sharku, një tregtare e dalluar është vrarë me vajzën dhe tre fëmijë nga mosha 3-12 vjeç të therur me thikë, të prerë në gushë dhe me trupa të shpuar me plumba pas copëtimit të gjymtyrëve. dhe e gjithë kjo në orët e vona të natës kur fëmijët ishin duke fjetur në gjumë.
Njeriu pas kësaj kishte të drejtë edhe të imagjinonte dhe dëshironte të jetë një plep apo ai çift mace që bënin flirt në murrin e oborrit…vetëm njeri të mos jetë.
Këto detaje sigurisht i mungojnë librit, këto detaje i mungojnë, jam i bindur edhe grupit negociator të Kosovës me Serbinë, e cila e padit Kosovën dhe kushtëzon në vend që të kërkoj falje dhe të pastroj duart nga gjaku, ashtu si ka bërë Vili Brandi për vikitimat e SHOAH-s, Holokaustit.
Nuk më ka ndodh ende që një libër ta lexoj me më shumë vështirësi se sa këtë, edhe pse librin e Nusret Pllanës e kam shfletuar disa herë që mos ta harroj tmerrin njerëzor që vie nga fqinji i lig, ende i lig, ende me tendenca kundër-shqiptare.
Që nga dita kur ka dalë nga botimi dhe ende i vinte era gaz nga shtypshkronja e deri sot tek më kundërmon goja gjak nga rënkimi, ta mbaj si një copë kujtese të shkëputur, të shkulur nga qenësia ime prej këtyre dy autorëve.
Nuk ishte lehtë, nuk është lehtë dhe kurrë nuk do të jetë lehtë të ballafaqohesh me një libër të këtillë; një segment shumë i rëndë i historisë kosovare, ballkanike, evropiane dhe botërore.
Ky libër duhet të përkthehet në sa më shumë gjuhë botërore dhe t’u shpërndahemisioneve diplomatike, që edhe njëherë të rikujtohen se, çfarë ka ndodhur në Kosovë.
Po më vjen keq që për këtë libër nuk mund të flas serbisht, që t’iu kumtoj edhe atyre të vërtetën të cilën edhe ata e dinë por e mohojnë me shumë zell. Ne këtë nuk duhet ta lejojmë!



Fahredin Shehu
qershor 2011
Rahovec

Şirin Pancaroğlu - Asturias

CLAUDE DEBUSSY: CLAIRE DE LUNE

Bill Douglas - Heaven In A Wild Flower

Jan Garbarek - Psalm!

Stephan Micus - Mikhail's Dream

Lord, rest me not…!

The malice human
Injects hatred, and
My body full of strength;
The heart blessed with patience,
Conjoin the pace.

I have yet a work to do;
To heal the maladies through
My soul; crystallized in a word
You read; the pity one!

I have yet a prayer to perform;
To light the niche in your heart,
As dark as zircon,
With the blessed oil of Galilee
Of my realm

Lord, rest me not…

I have yet to sleep
For the enemy while he strives
To make a hole in the waterfall;
And the Spirit beside
With the shade-making wings
He stretches; while I read
The scriptures of the martyrs
For the better human

Lord, rest me not…

As I heal with Love and
Meticulously hide this as;
What the Human calls the “Sin”
And the Soul beside
As fresh- shaded tree of eternal;
Where the lips
Meet the forehead and
Sparks another star
For the unborn

Lord, rest me not…

As I want to teach
What beautiful creature You made
And the “I” beside; the ray- spreading
Beauty
Shows the value of Gratitude
For the mislead.

Lord, rest me not…

Today is my wedding
With your Attributes
The unison we shall rejoice
for eternity and a day more.

The Loom

The Loom
Yet you are my dew in the petal of eternity

You’ve got few strings of mine
With their painted threads
You’ve set up the net
In your loom
For the tapestry of your last gammon

You are happy in this delusion
You enjoy your pace of life
While you believe
Others are blind

I’m not that bad to salute your illusion
Even in the moments when you think
You are the Queen of the city
That cocked the last blood supper
For the Peninsula of hatred.

Wake up three times I evoke
Don’t let the abyss swallows
All your dreams and hopes
So the Divine may abandon you.

LE MÉTIER À TISSER

Pourtant, tu es ma rosée dans le pétale de l'éternité

Tu as quelques cordes de moi
Avec leurs fils peints.
Tu as installé la trame
Sur ton métier
Pour tisser la tapisserie de ta dernière fantaisie.

Tu es heureuse dans cette tromperie,
Tu jouis de ta façon de vivre,
Convaincue que les autres
Restent aveugles.

Je ne suis pas si mauvais pour saluer ta tromperie,
Même dans les moments où tu penses
Que tu es la reine de la ville
Qui as mijoté le dernier souper sanglant
Pour la péninsule de la haine.

Réveille-toi trois fois, comme je te le dis,
Ne laisse pas les abysses engloutir
Tous tes rêves et tes espoirs
Au point que le Divin lui-même t’abandonne.

Translated into French by Academic Athanase Vantchev de Thracy, Paris

Lamma Bada Yata Thanna on Biwa

Lammebada - Natacha Atlas

CINOSARGO Revista, Chile

Poemas de Fahredin Shehu





http://cinosargo.bligoo.com/poemas-de-fahredin-shehu#content-top

My rains and winds

Stardust winded
Wishes dispersed throughout
You wait
The sacrificing pigeon;
as white as neon

She flies over our head
Builds the nest
For the progeny of Liberty

I kiss you in the spot
Where the star sealed
The enveloped skin
To see the unseen

Your dress
A heavy couture
All brocade, gold and platinum
Twisted muslin with the damask
All over

Releasing the smell of Oud
To bring hot Oriental breeze
In my Occidental body
A victim for the Cross

Somebody wants to
Peace prevail in our realm
Somebody wants to read my writing
Jus as they wish to read

A flying something lightly
Lands in the front of the shores
We by stand the external bygones
Amused and bewildered
We are
Silent as stone
Erected in the midland

All kinds of spices and species
Even slices and pieces
Verbatim’ and Originals
Assembled

Never-ending gratitude
Goblets of Ambrose
We drink in the name of the Supreme
Tonight rains and winds ceased

The sorbet of the Divine

for those I met

Arbor had fear,
From a passing stranger
I fed the canary while
They sung in unison
Scared they flew away
A stranger approached me
I was about to faint
The crimson ground
Made tectonic sliding
We feared death

She lives in a distance
Yet she lives with my
Breath and the soul
Radiates in her ether
She remembers the Lilly
I brought from the garden
Of certitude, and
The roses in a blasting white

I bestow as a final touch
Where freedom smells Love
The two-sided medal
Has the love pentacle
At the abyss of the surface
I taught on Kernel of the Kernel

She prayed in the biggest Temple
In synergy with the rolling through
My burning cheek, fried
Crystal tear in nacre transformed
I evoked Salamanders
To extinguish the fire
With the fire

The crystalline cup
Of the wine, Divine to obey
My thirst

The wisdom approached in
An old fashion

The knowledge bangs
The manifestation of freedom.

The Love eternal Lady
Wowed the platinum thread
An oracle tapestry
She made
I sat there…
I felt there…
I saw there.

Those I met in
The realm of the hanged forms
I saw her dark sapphire eyes
That kept the beauty Secret
The body that sticks
All fallen stars and
The heart of her
That is a sarcophagus of
The secrets; of the chosen

Her voice is the symphony
Of the golden leaf wheat
And the hush of a Sybil
The argument written in
a forehead
Bears testimony

What the holy womb bears
The witnesses are
Two lights
The Angel of the left and the angel
Of the right shoulder

She recognizes the seal of
A prodigy’s scalp,
And double up and down turned
Triangles
In my Plexus

She is not Mary
She is not Amina
She is not Bathsheba

She is in a circle of curiosity
I’m in the square of stability
Who cares for the mouth?
Of the Cantankerous

The conundrum is set Mandala
The white rose of my being
Bleeds the blue
Because I Love eternally
As a Luna full
Careless of the barking

For a quantum of a moment
I disperse in those I met
They hardly recognize
The quintessence of the “I”
They only remember
Occasionally
The smell of the rose

Even this is for me
A Sufficient Something

I may only rest and
Breath as infant
Marked with the seal
In his forehead








Sorbeto della Divinita
Per quelli che ho incontrato



Arbor aveva paura,

Da uno sconosciuto che passava

Ho dato da mangiare il canarino mentre

Loro cantavano all'unisono

avevo paura che volano via

Un’ sconosciuto si e avvicinatò a me

Stavo per svenire

Il terreno cremisi

faciendo scorrevole tetoniche

Abbiamo temuto la morte



Lei vive in una distanza

Eppure vive con il mio

respiro e l'anima

Irradia nel suo etere

Ricorda la Lilly

che l ‘ho portato dal giardino

Di certezza, e

Le rose in un bianco di brillamento


Ho dato tocco finale

Dove la libertà ha odore di Amore

La medaglia a due faccia

Ha il pentacolo d’ amore

Al abisso della superficie

Ho insegnato su Seme del Seme


Ella ha pregato nel più grande tempio

In sinergia mediante rotolamento

La mia guancia brucia, fritto

Lacrima di cristalo trasformato in madreperla

Ho evocato Salamandre

Per spegnere il fuoco

Con il fuoco


La coppa cristallina

Del vino, la Divina di obbedire

La mia sete



La saggezza si avvicinò a

Un vecchio modo


La conoscenza frangia

La manifestazione di libertà.


Signora Eterna d’ amore

Ha entusiasmato il filo di platino

Un oracolo arazzo

Ha fatto

Mi sono seduto li

Ho sentito

Ho visto


Quelli che ho incontrato in

Il regno delle forme impiccato

Ho visto i suoi occhi di zaffiro scuro

che hanno tenuto segreto di bellezza

Il corpo che attacca

Tutte le stelle cadute e

Il cuore di lei

Come un sarcofago di

segreti, dell eletto



La sua voce è sinfonia

Del grano dorato a foglia

E il silenzio di una Sibilla

L'argomento scritto in

una fronte

portano testimonianza


Quello che il santo grembo porta

Sono i testimoni

Due luci

L'Angelo della sinistra e l'angelo

Della spalla destra



Lei riconosce il sigillo di

prodigio di scalpo

E doppi su e giù trasformato

a Triangolo

Nel mio Pesso


Lei non è Maria

Lei non è Amina

Lei non è Betsabea


Lei è in un cerchio di curiosità

Io sono nella piazza di stabilità

Chi se ne frega per la bocca?

Del irascibile



L'enigma è impostato Mandala

La rosa bianca del mio essere

Sanguina l'azzurro

Perche io Amo eternamente

Come piena Luna

Incurante del abbaio



Per un quanto di un momento

dissolve in quelli che ho incontrato

Essi appenna riconoscono

La quintessenza dell '"Io"

Essi ricordano

Occasionalmente

Odore dell fiore



Anche questo è per me

Un Qualcosa Sufficiente



Posso solo riposare e

Respirare come bambino

Segnati con il sigillo

Nel suo fronte



Translated by Ilire Zajmi