Blesok no. 33, July-August, 2003

Slabing of Yellowness
Translated by: Lidija Dimova

Lindita Ahmeti

What You Said to Me

you spoke about the invisible world
about the ghosts wandering on the roof tops
about hidden beauty
about things with no names
that cannot be uttered with endless opportunities of
I ask you
should I turn the light on

Graphic Art on the Window Glass

the interior of my castle
is drawn on the window glass
                   from the cold
in the midst of winter night
the embroidery
threads of frosty silver
                   with white reflection
now when a handful of morning light
has to fall on my windows
one can see only numerous buds
                   of symbols and
dadaistic leafless fruits
                   with no pulp
a little beggar covered in snow
                   on the bridge
wearing a frozen starry wreath
                   on the head
sticking out a thin hand
                   for mercy
the rattle of frozen hair cannot be heard
                   in the air
nor can the black spot behind the boy
snow snow
yonder on the plain the word
                   spring is rolling
and the will of God.

Deer in a Dream

deer sleeping on golden leaves
swaying to and fro by the mild mountain wind
the old bard coming out from the foam
         of the spring
hanging the lyre onto his
         magnificent antlers
and between two songs
creating the silence with the notes of the dream
tulips and drams blooming around the oak tree
the deer starring at the tips of
         plentiful bushes
and the she-deer taking him
flowers flowers flowers
and mountain symphony
that seem as green canyons
young aspen and tender grass
sun rays splattering
         eternity into the mountains
who would ever think
that ever so close awaits the hunter

Slabing of Yellowness

Oh god how the yellowness is slabing
in my room without the exit door
inevitable windows are yellow
armchairs carpets walls
my old type-writer
and the sound it produces
and the sun that mirrors
                my windows
they too are yellow
as is my face
and my song
and hope
to see the flowers
when autumn yellows
the mountains and fields

Your Eyes

your wonderful eyes
depicted on paper
         are starring at me
oh god how beautiful they are
like blue mountain flowers
with magical power
your eyes
blue blossom
traced here by the holy ghost
         on this paper
on paper
only on paper

all poems from “И/Dhe/And” – selection of young Macedonian poetry (Templum, 2002), edited by Iskra Geshoska and Dzhabir Ahmeti

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