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Bekim Tocani Poem
Tomorrow
If tomorrow I’ll be late for a coffee to "The Greek"
Do not wait
Above Olympus of pain I make portrait of Mother
In the loneliness I knit nostalgic mosaic of Father's
To the Children we build together the statue of longing
Let we kiss a lot Grandmother but not let us kill the exile
If after tomorrow I will be absent for cappuccino to "The Italian"
Wait me a bit
To save desperation about homeland
I will ride crazy within Dante’s circles
While daughter of Tyro’s King wound words from haven
Kills me every day and Kosovo in daylight
If today again I’ll not come to “The new club”
Don’t think that I don’t want
But there are gossips, rumors and fog
And I pray for everyone, even for those who only speak Albanian
Wait me to the field of the church where our childhood suffering
To make toast of tears; why we haven’t had the beautiful youth age
Copyright © Bekim Tocani | Year Posted 2012
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Bekim Tocani Poem
Metaphor of fraud
In the road of loneliness I remake my morning prayers
Yellowed silence buries last memories
Autumn and curtain above my book are broken
Yearly rain writes an anonymous journal
There are no words between metaphors of tears
I bite darkness, fonts and white letter
Due to the rust of time the promise digests
In the corners of ignorance a broken violin hushes
Char lips I begin the ballad of fraud
A frozen key cannot reopen any door anymore
The same you walk and smash, the same you wake up,
the same you raise and fall,
Lie and cry or be quiet, but kiss the mornings in the heart
Copyright © Bekim Tocani | Year Posted 2012
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Bekim Tocani Poem
The News: Lack of Love
We couldn’t read the news, nor decode a word
Nor the cries and prayers among the relics of hearts
I didn’t understand why freedom couldn’t taste Albanian
I couldn’t believe that we started hurting animals
And I committed suicide because I believed, wanted to breath
Me, or…repeatedly my shadow, or someone else
Those, I gave a hand and received poison and bullets; rusty words and iron
We were killing; bloody hands remained above the hell of love
Letters and verses torture unstoppable dormant conscience
The kind of people who soaked homeland, faith and soul of forefathers
Bloody infant of tears that don’t dry squirms yet today
And we remain orphans of love on the roads of the world
I don’t want to believe in animalistic nation that suffers from misdemeanor offenses
And, I don’t know why I hang myself through the pathetic hope of remake
What kind of damnation sucks the tired pieces of motherland cells?!
On behalf of who would be said my self-hanging, if there still exists tomorrow!
Pause of self-hanging through the national romanticism is like a homeland without love
Man, only fragile fiction of broken dream as ancient mosaic,
Oh, I need a pause to inhale tobacco smoke,
To not believe that we are hurting animals, oh my Lord...!
Copyright © Bekim Tocani | Year Posted 2012
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Bekim Tocani Poem
Correspondence
...in Kosova, instead of my dream, I found a grave in which I place flowers every weekend ...
Islam Morina
(A friend who went back from Denmark in Kosovo immediately after the war on 1999 to find his girlfriend who was shot dead by Serb military machine)
If you remember Kosovo and graves
Albanian immigrant spirit closes into loneliness
And I bite the pain in white letter
You my young friend
Do not ask for the photo of the murdered childhood
Do not daub the wound of a resurrected muse
Measure the sunset with a first step
Do not promise flowers to the spring
Kiss the cold soil of my homeland
And do not seek for love even within the books
Copyright © Bekim Tocani | Year Posted 2012
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Bekim Tocani Poem
To the grave of a friend
(Behxhet Maqani was killed by Serb snipers on Christmas night of 24 December 1998. 18 hours my friend, had struggled with death under minus 18 degrees Celsius...He was dragged and his hands were full of soil…he was fighting with death, for his children and the Family... no one, no one had helped. Despite the closest houses were only the 500 m away)
Nobody gave a speech
It was cold
They knew me as alive again
You touched separation
Being still alive I couldn’t kiss the wound
Except your Angels
My great friend
I know you alive as my death
From the book "The Lyrics of pain", 2003
Copyright © Bekim Tocani | Year Posted 2012
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Bekim Tocani Poem
Wet memory
A hidden memory breath out deep
Before Queen Elizabeth II I swallow up the sun with my hands
And I don't die from the loves fire
Even when the bite pain asnostalgia impartibly
A kiss is absentat the corner of the lips slot
the rain embraces tear of mother who waits
I closed the pain at Shakespeare's house
and I dialogue with Hamlet in Esperanto
To the Palace of Queen has noise
A warm hug suffers
Landscape happiness locked in cage of stories
is not heard as the voice of your violin
Winter chill and fog seasons here
We didn't saw even after a century
At A5 winter hosts springs in huge
It was said that Da Vinci's Code has not completed
Yesterday didn't beat even Big Ben after a wounded autumn
London Eye kisses viewing beyond sacrificial
In English I don´t understand either your calendar time
There is a lack of rain tomany at Buckingham Palace
With the heat I love and suffer the verse and untold word
In the the Dunstable frozen tear gives farewell to the silence
I am crouched by the tears and wet to the bone
Re knit sighs of a killed love many years
Copyright © Bekim Tocani | Year Posted 2012
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Bekim Tocani Poem
Forgotten bells
I wake up before bells and faint dreams
There are many days that I don’t want to wake up
I feel that I want to fly to the oblivion
And repeatedly wakes me up the prayer of love
But I cannot paint the length of the night
I go and come together with the wind through the season veins
At the grave of father Fishta I could find none of my bones
As in black and white celluloid I touch the corps of the re-departure
One another final way of infinite pains
Over the thousand days I don’t know who is killing me more
The misfortune diagnosis above the sky I cannot kiss either
Sugar in blood of anemic books
Verse lung cancer
Or soul letters tumor
I feel so close to the end of the beginning
As the bells that are not ceasing once
There is so much hunger for freedom and thirst for another life
And I cannot decode the Becket’s mask into Dante’s circles
All those whom I love don’t turn me their backs
Prayer roses into a dry spring without heart
To open the door I want, there, where angels suffer in silent tears
And, even in the end of the end of the beginning
Do not ever stop lullabies for the cradles
Don’t ask me for more while I breathe the air as Lasgushi
Do not make prayers into mornings and evenings with lots of anxiety
And if nothing and at all you will remember
Nor the buried poet and people with a lots of wounds
Damn me once with voice of the soul
There, where bells play funeral announcements
Although, we don’t recognize the length of the day and the darkness kills
And, often we would not want to wake up from the curse of the nights
Repeatedly we are greeting the day
Forgotten within loneliness but closer to the language of God
Copyright © Bekim Tocani | Year Posted 2012
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Bekim Tocani Poem
Confession
Even when nothing remained
And the hope was third with a yellow rain
I didn’t kiss the marrow of autumn
Forgive me the word of pain and tear of mine
I don’t recognize the language of sins today
I left you my soul hostage
But you never whispered the Bible
You crucified the saint feeling
Forgive her oh Lord, even while she doesn’t know what she’s doing
Forgive me because I believe in love
You can not betray what you do not have
You never felt The Lyrics of Pain
The story is completely different
Burn my sins tonight you death of mine
While I believe yet in your infidelity
Copyright © Bekim Tocani | Year Posted 2012
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Bekim Tocani Poem
Monologue of loneliness
Do I still look like a man my dearest?
When I seek a bit of life and soul prays into orphan seasons
Could you paint the light of my eyes that parch?
Why you remake my soul in the loneliness of monotone mosaic?
Can you touch a light or the sun above my black darkness?
I try to hide the pain and you plant only love
Do I look like a shadow or a ghost when I suffer and breathe Albanian?
I cry and smile, fall and wound, but love over and over again
Copyright © Bekim Tocani | Year Posted 2012
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Bekim Tocani Poem
The dream Pegasus
Tonight my eyes do not make and feel the light
As a century of re crucifixion
To ride Pegasus in a injured dream
Muse comes on as bride without veil
In distress I close even the pipe- hole of the soul
the flavor of pain does not ruin the spring on Olympus
Oh remained the space that do not violate from anyone
Sacrifice of blue rhapsody in a autumn lethargy
Painful prelude to the contract with God
Tonight I want to suffer until the bone
Albanian cardiac vein to screech and sing through the Illyricum
Infinitely to love and never hate
And what about if I die asleep from fatigue
Does it matter why crutch fate in survival suffers bruises
Zeus heart do break where we planting and harvesting tears and nostalgia
Slave to love in feuds of this anti life
Captive of goodness above pantheon of a concrete symphony
on your wings bring me to kiss Hestia Pegasus
Copyright © Bekim Tocani | Year Posted 2012
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