Poetry: Mehdi Krasniqi

Mehdi Krasniqi

Mehdi Krasniqi was born in the village of Carrallukë, on 01.09.1981. He completed his higher studies at the Faculty of Philology, the branch of the Albanian language in Pristina. He is the author of 13 books, also translated into foreign languages. He has also been honored and awarded with many international awards.

STICKER 1

Dam of silence collapsed

on the patio doors!

The sick has died they raised

the tongues of the living dead!

Dense fog You can't see

either the head or the tail

of the city!

 

STICKER 2

The river has changed direction.

From the next rains the beautiful

home of the poor it will overflow.

The world will understand a different

way of life when you see them

with the naked eye his pillows

stuffed with straw floating

on the water like a wooden ship...

Distraction 9

On the weekend the chronicler of political metaphors writes on the blackboard

the poem about the burning barn.

Sucks desperately on stepmother's breast and to the dolls in the office he says:

The cake should be divided evenly!

***

STICKER

It occurred to you that the raindrops

form communities in the window glass

and you see a lot less peonies

what did you see?

in the garden of the Father

where the soul washed its face

with muddled feet.

Have you ever understood the sin of metaphor

in the infidelity of the paper with dozens of postage stamps

that shows the soldier the only way to war

the only way to the poet after the war...

Let me remind you one more thing, my friend

for the dragonfly's tear

left traces in the friction of the lost man

for the dried mosquito blood in the poet's painting

Try to understand without crossing the bridge of sin to bread, salt and heart...

***

REVERIE

In "Time Beyond Pain"

The preamble of morality does not excuse him from the act of rape.

It breaks in the spirit by making an effort

restore the broken heart.

It fades away like a sound that exhausts after the roar

or like an overburdened ship that is split in two by rough waves and sinks like a piece of corroded ash that suddenly falls from the mouth of a greedy raven

or like an abandoned child who dies in another's arms, his body frozen, his eyes dead without being able to cry!

Away from the palace of pain

hot-blooded memories of nylons

wait for the stamp of the archive of oblivion

however,

but clothed in the garments of death

I will never die unloved...

***

INTERJECTION 1

Insurgent breasts

fallen in battle

because of the exclamation...

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Setu, March 2024