Pesme

Video sam da pišu i levom i desnom rukom

Pesme koje se završavaju

Dok se jedna cigareta popuši na verandi

A kome je stalo do pesme dima

Po punom mesecu i milini

Koju iz te daljine nama šalje

Gabrijel

I kome je stalo do zamagljenih reči

Koje donose astmatične napade

Mojoj sestri

Ženi sveta

Nalivpero- Fahredin Shehu, Iz. ARHIPELAG, Beograd

Srce

Lakše je bilo pre raspuklog

Ogledala tvoga srca

Da vidim mladež ispod

Adamove jabučice

I pečat sveznajućeg anđela

U desnom podpazuhu

Koji oslobađaše miomirise

Nebeskih cvetova

Danas mi oko levo

Aurske lobanje vidi samo

Tamno zelene lišaje kako lebde po eteru

I devet tekstura devet vrsta magle

S miomirisima mineralnog porekla

Dok slavim jačinu crvenog kristala

Kojeg ljubomorno s ljubavlju

Čuvam u nedrima

At Gizeh street in 2005

How many waxing and waning moons,

and those sickle among the stars confused.

If for others my dear you seem

the same in every season,

for me here in Gizeh street in Cairo

You are different,

                        different every time

as I defer your face and bow

down so you set beside the face

ff the Sphinx and walk

gracefully pampered by the smell

of Oud and in balcony drinking with a friend

Lipton black tea with some fresh mint leafs

soaked in huge ceramic mugs and roasted

cashews, pecans and macadamia

to foster hard thoughts.

Then the thin long ropey slices of carrots

and cucumbers for refreshment- while,

the air is humid although is two after midnight.

So I want to visit a lady,

on whom many words have been spread,

as she is a princess of some south Arabian tribes.

The apartment in the 12^th floor,

and on that very moment

as we eat the royal dates and ice cold water

we drunk- the earthquake started.

The lady was terrified,

more than I during the wartime.

…and she said:

There was not an earthquake in Cairo

since 12 years ago, may Allah

protect us all.

Then she continued praying in Arabic.

I never knew what. 

Në prehnin e nji jete tjetër

A të kanë diftue Xhan

Se sa e madhe asht zemra jeme

Te ajo ka vend për secillin me gjet

Ka i skut e m’u qetsue

Apo ke pa vet se munesh n’to

Me u sill tuj ma sjell erandjen

E parajsës i veshun me petkat morr

Që t’i kishin pre me dy masa

Njanën për trup e tjetrën për shpirt

A të kanë tregue Xhan

Se mue melaqet dhe Metatroni

M’i kan pre petkat për dy

Masa t’shpirtit

Mëndafsh jeshil ni petk për parajs

E armaç të’zi e t’rond për ferr

A të kan rrëfye Xhan se feja

Asht për ata qi i tuten ferrit dhe

Për ata qi shpresojn parajsën

E shpirtnia asht për q’ata të cillët i kanë

Parakalue udhët e të dyve

Eh…Xhan, mas pelegrinazhit

Me erdh ni engjëll

Ngroht më përqafoi me 600 krih

Në anën e majt dhe po aq

Në anën e djatht

Ja ndjeva erën e miskut

Nga gusha vallë e bojë qafërosaku

E pi nënsqetullave i vinte era ambër

U harlisëm si me pas pi venën

Nga vneshtat e Shirazit plot erandje

Ai më solli eliksir ku kishte

Lon inxhi t’kuqe t’gjakut t’ngurtsum

Dhe inxhi t’bardha pi palce t’kurrizit

Qi asht maja e detit t’madh

Ah Xhan se ma zgate jetën

Ajo melaqe qi m’tha se ata

Po u bokan tuj u nda e jo si na

Ata lindin si drita kur kalon nëpër

Vrima t’vrazhdta t’shpirtit

E mue nuk mu bahej von ma

Se vendosa me jetue

Me mendje t’kthimit

Në prehnin e nji jete tjetër

My silence

The world is getting full

with Plethora of particles

on a table I sit fully numb.

It seems in vain I have struggled

To please everyone

so to remain solely alone.

Those who were born before me and

those that are born and to be born

equally- expect my Silence.

Gentle Mortification

Piles of Men bones and then… digged from the holes hidden deep in earth.

Stones and ashes with sweat of slaves you think we don’t have them today.

My hair turned grey and the vision shortened. It suffocated by bizarre images

created throughout the world and beyond. Who said and who had ever promised

us to come down on earth and enjoy our vacation, for life demands more than

I may see, more than I may feel, more than I may utter the first word of

the first language- that of Silence.

There’s another Soul evaporating on the deck and in the shore the breeze blows

odors of their smelly sweat. They watch as they wait in the queue their turn

to death entrance. That Gate open-heartedly awaits so many …a way so many

guests for their retirement. There is a vast Space beyond blissful Knowing and

the bells rang beneath the roof of the utmost Heaven.

You see. Even Death is different, not only Fate, not only Joy, not only

uninterrupted Smile- The one that demolishes every hatred. Even Love is different

in the process of your Gentle mortification.

Then ask me where is Freedom, where is the Turquoise bone of Destiny and

the days as cheap minerals overwhelming Life taken as corn seeds by chicken

and a rooster with the chirping voice who calls them and don’t allow them

to have even a grain.

…and the flowers are frozen by the snow on the April’s end- this Spring has

betrayed us all- sour are the strawberries, you think you eat cherries.

…and what else do you think we shall do when the Sun burns your shadow

until it disappears.

Who said you have a right to call me Life- when in real I’m only

a Gentle Mortification.

Some hours after dark

http://thegalwayreview.com/2014/12/20/fahredin-shehu-some-hours-after-dark/

Some hours after dark

Three hours after dark, a strange voice life had sounded
I got birth to Love while I smiled as a mundane imbecile
after each blossoming of linden in the late spring 2014.
People use to walk over-burdened with weight of the city
in despair for the assassinated young lad who left behind
a pregnant young lady waiting for a girl.
The mother cries and the spouse too- who shall represent
them in Men assembly? – Who shall be the voice of justice?
when tonight Justitia was raped mercilessly and the king
is mourning deep from within- secluded he is licking
wounds as an old Lion. Some say he is gathering forces
for the last roaring, other say he falls in unreturned sleep.
What can I say…what can I…? –  Who once again rejoiced
Life for who knows how many Man’s years. Reading in verandah
writing sentences that are percolated from the Soul as
a freshly picked black grapes, and the vine to drink while
the right cheek is moonlighted on the last Friday, June 2014
embraced with the sounds of Eastern magical instruments
Santoor, Oud and Nay blended with the chirping voices
of the grasshoppers.

Ekspozita dhe lexim poezish Qendra Kulturore Evropiane, Prishtine, 20 prill 2015

Distant Lands of Remembrance

they were cooling the blood in the river nearby

immersing tattered toes after a long run so they may

at least feel the rounded stones with emerald kelp

mantled the road was harsh and the wind in hush

somehow told the muttered song for the nasty children

a flock of working bees searching for the nectar

one buzzed in the curly ginger hair of Rita

who brought to show me the wedding earrings of

her mother when I first came in that neighborhood

then I was catching the butterflies needling them

in a recycled paper I never knew they were so

to draw them afterwards with the pastel crayons

my father bought somewhere in Croatia when

he merchandised he knew what

she became a sparkling beauty and disappeared

making me never see her again even with somebody

else even with my old friends who perhaps went in

Europe to work as miracle workers wouldn’t recognize

the one  I became- old friends that mock our way of life

today that is far- far more tend to oblivion- everything

is blurred in distant lands of remembrance

Gentle Mortification

Piles of Men bones and then… digged from the holes hidden deep in earth.

Stones and ashes with sweat of slaves you think we don’t have them today.

My hair turned grey and the vision shortened. It suffocated by bizarre images

created throughout the world and beyond. Who said and who had ever promised

us to come down on earth and enjoy our vacation, for life demands more than

I may see, more than I may feel, more than I may utter the first word of

the first language- that of Silence.

There’s another Soul evaporating on the deck and in the shore the breeze blows

odors of their smelly sweat. They watch as they wait in the queue their turn

to death entrance. That Gate open-heartedly awaits so many …a way so many

guests for their retirement. There is a vast Space beyond blissful Knowing and

the bells rang beneath the roof of the utmost Heaven.

You see. Even Death is different, not only Fate, not only Joy, not only

uninterrupted Smile- The one that demolishes every hatred. Even Love is different

in the process of your Gentle mortification.

Then ask me where is Freedom, where is the Turquoise bone of Destiny and

the days as cheap minerals overwhelming Life taken as corn seeds by chicken

and a rooster with the chirping voice who calls them and don’t allow them

to have even a grain.

…and the flowers are frozen by the snow on the April’s end- this Spring has

betrayed us all- sour are the strawberries, you think you eat cherries.

…and what else do you think we shall do when the Sun burns your shadow

until it disappears.

Who said you have a right to call me Life- when in real I’m only

a Gentle Mortification.