Will Earth colonies remember the homeland they left behind or they will only like a snake that chucked its skin, never turn their head back

Fahredin Shehu, an accomplished Independent Scientific Researcher, poet and multilingual writer from Kosovo, shares his poems

Fahredin Shehu, born in Rahovec, South East of Kosova, is an accomplished Independent Scientific Researcher with a focus on World Spiritual Heritage and Sacral Esthetics. Fluent in numerous languages, he has translated works into English, French, German, Italian, Persian, Arabic, Turkish, and many others. As an author, Fahredin has penned 20 books, including poems, essays, and novels, showcasing his diverse literary talents. Fahredin’s exceptional literary prowess has earned him prestigious accolades, such as the Naaji Naaman Prize for Poetry in Beirut, Lebanon, in 2016, and a nomination for the renowned Pulitzer Prize in 2017. Acknowledging his scholarly achievements, he was awarded the title of Doctor Honoris Causa by the Universum Academy in Lugano, Switzerland, where he also holds a Lifetime Academic position. Beyond his academic pursuits, Fahredin actively fosters literature as the Director of the International Poetry Festival in Rahovec, Kosovo. Dedicated to preserving cultural education and heritage in Kosovo, Fahredin founded the Fund for Cultural Education and Heritage. His works have been translated in English, French, German, Italian, Finish, Estonian, Spanish, Greek, Polish, Serbian, Croatian, Bosnian, Macedonian, Slovenian, Bulgarian, Roma, Swedish, Turkish, Arabic, Hebrew, Persian, Russian, Romanian, Mongolian, Chinese, Maltese, Frisian, Sicilian, Bengali, Bhahasa, and Hindi.

He wrote many reviews, edited many books and anthologies, to mention: World Healing World Peace, Two volumes Anthology, Inner Child Press USA. He is the Member of World Association of Writers, World Poetry Movement, and Member of the Kosovo PEN Center; Laureate of gold medal for poetry as bridge to Nations, Axlepin Publishing, Philippines; Poet of the year 2014, Turkish Literary Magazine, IMZA, Yunus Emre Institute, Prishtina, Kosovo; Award winning Poet Agim Ramadani, Stubëll- 2014. Award winning Poet, Naaji Naaman Prize for Poetry, Beirut, Lebanon, 2016; Certificate of Merit- World Union of Writers, Mexico; Laureat of the first place, Silk Road Poetry Feastival, Year of the Tiger 2022, Beijing, China; Lifetime Academic Universum Academy Switzerland  and World Poetry Movement- Columbia, Coordinator for Kosovo.

The Lament of the Earth

How zeal fully you’ve preserved

The foreign narratives

You’ve adopted them

To sell them latter like a fog of all colours

 

Even today there are others-

Sufficient to compete as who shall more and who shall better keep the foreign past, and

There are others who strive to break every membrane

To create new bio-algorithms

To uplift the life to another plane

To another dimension

 

Yet there will be Men

That will observe the World

Here with the borrowed eyes

They will fold new images

In layers just like the fog

Thickens up in this sky with a sole Sun

 

…and those who still want degustation

A fresh wine and

Dry artisan cheese,

Petals of the May’s roses

For a refreshment drink and a jam

 

When one day the exodus occurs

Will Earth colonies remember the homeland they left behind or they will only like a snake that chucked its skin, never turn their head back

 

Go, experience the emptiness you’ve created, but go aiming the return because

This Mother again shall await you open-armed

Shall long for quite some time accompanied with sounds of Cello, Santoor, Piano and the chirping voices of the birds with the wings of all rainbow colours

 

When in your recesses you hold your child

Tell them that somebody here knew your repentance

Tell them a bit about the greed you took away

Like the dowry which will fly above the weight-less Souls of yours

And that you’ve measured everything with the human scale

 

Tell them about the Dice of Life and Death

…and the Death that defiled bearing heavy shadow wearing black brocade gown spreading fear all over

Tell them about the World with the two Suns and with the pointing finger toward the Earth- toward Me, this blue dew of Mercy that buries every evil in her chest

Tell them about the stars you’ve counted while in your fingers nipples appeared

Tell them about the balloons of snivel from your noses while playing the sweat drops leaked down the neck

 

Tell them about wasps buzzing in your curly hair and

About the pond where swans were playing while blue metallic colour demoiselle mingled among cattails

 

Tell them about Love you’ve tasted

But never succeeded to understand

…about death for God’s sake

The death of your most beloved and the pain it caused

Tell them at the end about the Separation and the wounds it incurred.

 

Go, try the emptiness you’ve created solely

But go with the aim of return because

This Mother shall again wait openheartedly

Will long for some plus time

Under the shade of wild Chestnut Tree while bees collect the nectar

For some other life

***

We knew not the separation

Statured amidst dews of petty things,

I 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 new 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 the 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 a long time ago and for eternity and a day more.

***

Let it be one night more

On the dark muslin of the night

And the evaporating ouch disperses throughout

It was someone galloping with heavy brocade apparel and overdone

Jewelry from the feet to the head top

That broke my silence for far too long

I utterly in awe exclaimed for God’s sake:

 

“Let it be one night more…

Only one night to prolong life and

Leave all elixirs, balms and cures behind

All hexes, potions and casted oaths

Throughout either

That one day I will become!”

 

..Yet I became a Talismanic Temple of Grandeur

To be ruined by earthquakes, temptations, pleasures and delights,

And in this mossy ruin one could find a solace

For only one day more

Pardon me

One more night of survival.

_________________ 

Read: I’m not begging you – Poetry by Flora Peci, an eminent poet and prose writer from Kosovo