FAHREDIN SHEHU

FAHREDIN SHEHU

We Knew Not The Separation

Statured amidst dews of petty things returned refreshed with

lungs full of Myrtle and Pine fragrance,

seeking serenity in a grotesques trammeling of worn– out Spirits

I roam, jostling fears and hopes and forgetting brand linen I ought

to wear– the only thing to be buried with…and the linen written all

over with Saffron and Rosewater all of my poems I was unable

to write on Friendship, for the poet’s sensitive Soul who once lived

in the Constellation of Peace-  the same I want to rebuild here,

and the bright stars felt upon wombs of our mother’s shall bear witness.

One day when from the bleach-white or rather Neon– light

skeleton of mine, the shine shall emit the rays from the sky– wide dome.

Again I returned from the mossy ruins I was seeking the Beauteousness

of your being  and you remember the wine we drunk even before

we knew not the separation. And there was none. As the souls of ours

merged long time ago and for eternity and a day more.

There

When you gaze up toward the forms of the white clouds

you find my face ablaze by the sun rays

mother or I am not...!?, wearing the brocade accoutrements

as in the bridal night,

with the hair anointed with lavender oil

with the face as a full Moon

in front of Venetian mirror

as in times when guns where shooting

while intermarry killing each other

as for who shall first pass the crossroad

between two cemeteries

one of the Plague and the other of children dead

by Measles

today when I bow down my sight and see my stomach

while earth is dragging by

somehow as I want to sing the song of the Midday

when the Sun vanishes your shadow

and the Bachelors faint

while looking bare feet escape of the Fairy with the inflamed

curly crest

the fragrance of Myrrh and Violet spreading all around

as in times when the Moon was adored as God

while Pagans prayed for the rain to fall

with bells and kelp,

elder leafs and bowing boughs

of the weeping willow folded

tomorrow we shall look straight in the eyes

seeing the lie of each other,

how it leaks as mercury in aged veins

with antimony poisoned while juvenile

and our faces will not blush out of shame

because we folded the darkness in rule

we bind it in a sack woven

in the Loom of the Sun

there where you drink the vine that never makes your drunk

where Love is done as breathtaking

and isn’t nominated as we do

there where the Word is done not uttered instead…

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

FAHREDIN SHEHU

FAHREDIN SHEHU was born in 1972 in the village of Rahovec in Kosovo and graduated from Oriental studies at the University in Prishtina. He is a poet, writer, essayist, editor, an independent researcher of the world spiritual heritage and sacral aesthetics, and a calligraphy enthusiast. He writes mystical and transcendental poetry, prose, essays, articles, etc. in Albanian and English. Author of 17 published books. The more recent of his works include: a selected poetry Crystalline Echoes (2011), WAF, Portugal, the collection of essays, columns, and articles on culture, art, and spirituality Makadam i Smagradtë (Emerald Macadam, 2012), the novel “Hojet” (Honeycomb, 2013), NALIVPERO (The Pen, 2014)  Arhipelag, Belgrade, Serbia,   and the epic poem MAELSTROM – The Four Scrolls of an Illyrian Sage (2014), Inner Child Press, USA, in which he writes about spiritual visions and the author’s creative unrest that oscillates between Theurgy and Revelation, Elisir (Elixir, bilingual Albanian- Italian edition 2017, Pelicano Libri, Rome, Italy). Shehu’s poetry has been translated in over 25 world languages and included in many anthologies and literary journals the world over and he is a frequent guest of literary festivals. He is nominated Author for Pulitzer prize 2018 He is also the director of the renowned international poetry festival Poetry and Wine that takes place in his birth village.  Founder of fund for Cultural Education and Heritage, (www.fekt.org).