TYRAN PRIZREN SPAHIU

TYRAN PRIZREN SPAHIU

COFFEE HOUSE

Pleasant, small, defies society,

five Gothic tables are , refreshing,

joy, in the last are sitting bohemians,

words march, pleasure covers the space.

Four other tables, stay silent,

in each of them a poet, humble reads,

are thinkers who have lost feelings,

being frankly united ,soul lacks!

In the first,

is a poet, lost dream in life,

launched paths leading to the crossroads,

the deep blackness of darkness has covered ...

fresh tracks are sunk in the mud,

This game continues, is said is coincidence ,

inserted in the sheet, half-empty,

broken feather, inked fingers,

claims, are poetic verses that rule,

I know,

my consciousness is painted on,

covered I am with many sins,

being weak, the crippled nobility,

revives my being with few poet friends in life.

I turn Madam- hope, that keeps me alive,

no tricks, smiling, I say what do expect from this world,

please, kindly guide me that breathes unshaken,

to find the port of peace between many poets.

BUT,

Unsuccessful I am, noble purpose has failed,

Feather lovers are wandering confused, anger continues,

at this place, resting jealous of poetry.

I do leave alone the coffee house ...

PROUD

They accuse me, saying I am foolish

looking with compassion,

entered the game with the night passer

pitting me, whispering this poor man!

Many words, echoed coarsely in my body

smile I saw, fun on their faces,

attempting to blew the instinct of sick jealousy

filthy cynicism covered them without exception.

Decided not to respond to greed

strongly opposed, not to agree with idiocy,

I went down the path of kindness and ignorance

inserted into my world, the net of warmth.

That winter night, you remember next to the fireplace

your thin half-voice admitted,

sins in the hotel rooms with greedy pimples

you will never again jump in, hugging anyone.

I believed your nature, fiery with sincerity

delivered to you the loyalty, my family nobelity,

I accepted you in my garden, where honesty is born

no mistake I have done, now The Mother of Pride.

MISS- GUIDE ME!

GUIDE ME, to unexplored paths of love

covered with golden yellow leaves

in the hidden waterfalls of lust

far from the betrayal touches.

In the secretive spheres of Olympus

ancient Rome with pure wine

the roads paved with sins

in the immensity of the ecstatic imagination.

In the tea room of the geisha's

dressed in black kimonos

fiery flickering sounds

the dances of the Pleasure of Pearls.

In the ragged orgies of Eskimo

during the winter Arctic frosts

the reward of passion welcomes

in the igloo covered with polar bear skins.

Achieving the fantasy's litter

imagination - the art of the Miss

wild Nature Skills cover

say, LEARN me to face the fascinating world of madness .

...

TYRAN PRIZREN SPAHIU

KOSOVO