Shine. A Poem by Irsa Ruçi Translated by Silva Daci

 

I.
Hear to the cicada’s song, my dear, hear it
Some words they mutter to spring
And feel their whisper to the leafs
To the mornings’ dew
So tell me:
Was this world made to be savage?
 

II.
Oh, what sins did we give to this earth
So that our own tear weighs in powerless
At traces that froze in oblivion
The lost sinner
We…
Guardians of Hope
 

III.
One day we will get away
In a path there’s no coming back
For sure I’ll carry behind only regret,
Why we weren’t enough in this greedy world?
And the forgiveness
We were eager to get it
When one day even our soul we’ll see it
Stripped from our bodies.
 

IV.
O tell me that nothing is true
That the poet’s words are thatch stalks
That would be fired by one single match
And I, my last line I’ll give to the Human;
For he prays in the sin’s mercy
And in his life never lied to himself
 
My last line I’ll save it for the Human…

 
My photo 2

 
Irsa Ruçi is an Albanian Writer, Speechwriter and Lecturer. She was born in Tirana (Albania), in 1990. Her books of poetry include Trokas mbi ajër (poems and essays), 2008 and Pështjellim (poetry), 2010.
She has been published in anthologies: Antologji, 2007; I kërkoj agimit vesën, 2008; Antologji poetike “Kushtuar dashurisë”, 2014; Antologji poetike “Udha”, 2014; Antologji poetike, 2014; “Malli dhe brenga nga distancat”, 2014; Antologji poetike “Qyteti”, 2014; Poeteca, 2015; and her works has appeared in a number of print and online national and international magazines, including Sling Magazine, Issue 5; Ann Arbor Review, Issue 15; Poeteca Magazine, Issue 35; Aquillrelle Anthology, 2015; Aquillrelle Anthology, 2016; Metaphor Magazine Issue 5; The Commonline Journal, Issue 4/22; A New Ulster poetry Anthology, April 2016; Best Poems Encyclopedia; Issuu April 2016; In Between Hangovers, May 2016; BLUEPEPPER, May 2016; Duane’s PoeTree, May 2016; CREATIVE TALENTS UNLEASHED, 8 May 2016, Tuck Magazine, 12 May 2016; Whispers… 2016; Dead Snakes Magazine; – RANDOM POEM TREE, 13 May 2016; RANDOM POEM TREE, 16 May 2016; In Between Hangovers, 14 May 2016; In Between Hangovers, 24 May 2016; SCARLET LEAF REVIEW, May Issue; Ashvamegh Magazine (Ashvamegh Indian Journal of English Literature), The Beatnik Cowboy, 19 May; Dissident Voice, 22 May; Joomag, May 2016; Bear Creek Haiku, May Issue; Dissident Voice, 29 May  etc.
Among many awards, she has received the first prize in poetry, in competition “Anthology 2007”, as the best poet in Albania.

 

Silva Daci foto

 
Bio:
Silva Daci was born in Tirana (Albania), in 1996. She is student of English Major, at the Faculty of Foreign Languages, in the University of Tirana. She is an activist in some social cooperatives and she likes to be part of social and cultural activities.
 

 
 
 
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CHILDLESS. A Poem by John Grey

 
What’s her name again – Deirdre Lyn.
She goes to law school. She plays field hockey
Summers spark with
the sheer will of her being.
Septembers are softer now
than a head on a pillow.
 
But then I feel your stomach
and you shake your head.
A tear emerges from your right eye,
the closest your body ever comes
to giving birth.
 
So I must watch over her
with my eyes shut.
Nail my lips together
to encourage her dreams.
Squeeze her to my chest
until she’s thinner than
the shirt I wear.
 
Deirdre Lyn – she comes to me in a dream
and says she’s met someone.
Yes, she met me.
And no one else ever.

 
 
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John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in New Plains Review, South Carolina Review, Gargoyle and Big Muddy Review with work upcoming in Louisiana Review, Cape Rock and Spoon River Poetry Review. To view more of his work www.motherbird.com & www.artvilla.com
 
 
 
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DAMP. (a poem after the rains) by Akor Emmanuel Oche

 

 
After the rains
come the drain of a white washed
road–sepulchers
of pungent oozing paths.
Cossy skins blended
in tar pigmented melanin,
mock the innerbeing,
telling her she is wet,
telling her she is clean.
Only fire tests the truth of things.
Soon the road evapourates
the reminants of her hidden self,
and the skin
whispers the truth
of its self- dark,dirty,blue-
-in avarice for the subtle touch of water,
to purly through the body through
to the spirit.
After the rains come the real water.
Spinning the soul in spree.

 
Akor Emmanuel Ochen

 
Akor Emmanuel Oche is a Nigerian poet,critic,essayist and thinker.
Connect with him on facebook by searching his account by his name.

 
 
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The Sudden Drizzle. A Poem by Bhupender K Bhardwaj

 
 

The sudden drizzle that brought long-sought fulfillment
To the scorched shacks of the country masses
Knitted the serrated peak and the neglected pavement
Into an aquamarine fabric under whose grace wild asses
Brayed with glee. The rusted generator attached
To the cola factory hummed loudly and brought
Back memories of the dull headaches which once latched
On to you. But these were phantoms of imagination which caught
You unawares, lost in the coerced stillness induced by your drab work
That ate you up slowly, constricting your vision
Beyond which strong-legged peacocks continued to jerk
Their crested heads in unison with the swaying trees that season.
 
Later, the sparrow-squeaks and the marketplace shouts
Which came up the verges were glinting arrows that quelled your doubts.

 
 
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Brief Bio: Bhupender K Bhardwaj, an IRTS officer, 27 years of age works with Ministry of Railways, Government of India. He has been composing poetry since the last few years. His influences are Derek Walcott and Seamus Heaney. His poems have been published by Mad Swirl, Indian Review, The Galway Review and Kingston Creative Writers’ Blog. Also, He was recently longlisted for The Toto Awards for Creative Writing 2016 in the Poetry category.
 
 
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LIES AND RETRACTIONS. A Poem by David Spicer

 

Norway is cold to any sentient tramp
or a chorus of hyenas that yawn
and sneeze around a chicken house
stinking of ghosts and rotten
pomegranates. Its windmills are beautiful
in the pastures, but I need a zippered
leather coat to cover the skylark tattooed
on my chest. I couldn’t invent this:
I have poor posture from shaking,
my body needs a sunlamp. No, I retract
the above lies that aren’t worth two euros.
I’d fly pennants and banners
for the frigid land. Or release balloons
into the happy sky. I love the fish,
blown glass, and police who don’t
surround or harass me. Plenty of shade
to sip chardonnay by, and next summer,
when warmer weather tricks this cancer
to die, I’ll toot my own horn again
and teach Tolstoy to the children.
 
 

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David Spicer has had poems in Yellow Mama, Reed Magazine, Slim Volume, The Laughing Dog, Jersey Devil Press, The American Poetry Review, New Verse News, Ploughshares, Bad Acid Laboratories, Inc., Dead Snakes, and in A Galaxy of Starfish: An Anthology of Modern Surrealism (Salo Press, 2016). He has been nominated for a Pushcart, is the author of one full-length collection of poems and four chapbooks, and is the former editor of Raccoon, Outlaw, and Ion Books. He lives in Memphis, Tennessee.
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