T'was a sorrowful midnight
the moon paints your name
in her twinkling array
Her starstruck children
weaving mystical metaphors
of silvered symphonies...
How strange it is,
forgetting the hoarseness
of your starless voice
as the world drapes itself
in pearlescent pools of moonshine
Isn't it strange?
How hushed rhapsodies sing
their shadowed verses of
your whimsical warmth
Wrapped in velvet-dark echoes
of rubied regret
Forever I shall wait,
In a sorrowful midnight
Amongst starlight moonflowers
of what's become of us
My legs feel poor in an unkind way
I don’t want to talk about anything
I don’t want to talk about anyone
Hoarseness will ingest lungs
Loss will be learnt from rot
I [will] have no eyes
I [will] have no tongue
I [will] have no heart
By Fatmir Terziu
I was hoarse. My hoarseness was not felt. It was foreign
in front of the mirror,
a smoky glassy word
slimy like the mouth of the green devil.
When even the birds cursed the country borders
with their hoarse sound
they remained blind.
We were hoarse. My homeland was hoarse.
The hoarsness became the prototypical wound
of the Beautiful Albanian Language.
playing around
we laugh until hoarseness
staying around
we plan by oversleeping
working together
we dwell with a positive nature
knowing the deal
we stay caught up by cooperation
the resulting happenings only strengthen our bond
it inspires us to go here, there, and beyond
we drive, walk, or fly to new and interesting places
we expand our horizons by new discoveries as well as meeting many new faces
our inquires are answered and our curiosities satisfied
we depart thirsty for knowledge and reprieve, and we return fully gratified
waking up
we yawn and stretch to newly acquired limits
making up
we prepare for the journey to yet another new course
correctly compromising
we prepare via the carefully derived blueprint
ready to go
we begin the New Route now Neverending
Behind the stars, love's promises dwell,
Enduring through the passing years,
In Christ who guides the flight of tomorrow,
In a realm of life untouched by fears,
Laughter echoes with genuine delight,
No hoarseness betrays its grace,
No clownish words, no false insight,
Just pure joy, that manifests with peace,
Happiness springs from a heart sincere,
Rest assured in heaven's gentle hold,
Eternal providence, love's frontier,
A life of peace and love's stronghold,
So when stars wink in the night,
It's their way of beaming with glee,
God's symbol of promises is bright,
Of endless joy and life's harmony,
And the land looked bleak
after the leaves had fallen
after the birds had gone.
But I was left with Winter hoarseness
and the memory of you
walking toward me,
your jacket the only point
across a cracked expanse of snow.
A tribal instinct stops the nemesis :
Spraying the blood-soaked, small
foot prints on my chest;
unlocking, I accept
myself.
Why contained anger
of awesome ache over the periphery ?
Through the atrophied, black limbs -
an elite infusion of trespassing knowledge ?
The green adolescence was waiting in chains.
The hoarseness as from a cyanosed throat
after the sips of hemlock, the brave ascending
of a gaint stroke on the cheeks of death ;
the dust will sing a farewell
to a river of tears !
End was not me on the chainsaw
a chamomile will wipe the blemishes of the Grail.
SATISH VERMA
Being was my forte,
where the words speak no more
a lifetime of black stillness,
the sunflowers sleeping.
The controller and the enquiry
freeze the ozone.
I repent again for all the sins of eloquence,
the rustling of leaves.
Take care of mood,
hoarseness and slippery speech
there is no room for pain.
A whole tribe of thoughts
scatters the lines to avoid
becoming, featureless and nameless.
Boulders are falling on feathers.
I am leaning towards eerie winds.
The other side of the door
was misty. The kiss of fire.
Mind wanders aimlessly.
The destiny breaks the steps
of sleepwalkers. They are falling in dark,
towards dark. A moon rides the clouds,
its smile becoming larger & larger.
SATISH VERMA
Throwing each other a cloud,
Risking to fall down from the sky,
Two Angels argue
up to a faint, up to a hoarseness
Who where from them was, where was not.
In the largest megacities,
In deserts, above oceans,
On Southern and Northern poles
They flew in secret ways.
You, Angels, everywhere have visited,
You so are pleased with yourselves!
But why you have forgotten me?
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