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





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