Ann Arbor Review

INSIDE THIS ISSUE:

Silvia Scheibli
'Deji W. Adesoye
Chris Lord
Ali Znaidi
Paul B. Roth
Umm-e-Aiman Vejlani
Lyn Lifshin
Laszlo Slomovits
Naim Kelmendi
Richard Kostelanetz
Anton Gojcaj
Duane Locke
Jennifer Burd
David Ishaya Osu
Steve Barfield
Miguel A Bernao Burrieza
Richard Gartee
Violeta Allmuca
Alan Britt

Fred Wolven
Ilire Zajmi
Running Cub
Donal Mahoney
Fahredin Shehu
Peter Tase
Nahshon Cook
Al Ortolani
Alex Ferde
Anton Frost

Michelle Bailat-Jones
Lazlo Slomovits & Jennifer Burd

Karyn M. Bruce
A. J. Huffman
Michael D. Long



 


Ann Arbor Review

is an independent

International Journal & ezine

Copyright (c) 2014 Francis Ferde
All rights revert back to each poet.
--editor / Southeastern Florida
------------------------------------------------


staff:
Francis Ferde
Silver Grey Fox
Running Cub
Fred Wolven

 

Submissions via e-mail:

poetfred@att.net

 

 

NJĖ MACE KOZMOSI

e kam parė njė mace|
mu nė breg tė detit
tė bukur e tė zezė


rinia e saj prej maceje
luante me bishtin e yllit
ajo lojė fatale
shi afshndjellės qiejve tė fyellit

njė mace kozmosi
epshe tė fshehura
lėvizje harmonike
gjymtyrėsh tė dehura femre

 

A CAT FROM COSMOS

I saw a cat
In the sea shores
Gorgeous and black
Just like the truth

As a young cat
Played with her eyes tail
A fatal game
a rain of passion in the flute’s sky

A cat from cosmos
Hidden Eros
harmonically moves
from a drunken torso of women

 

ISHULLI I RI

nė mes tė oqeanit me njė mijė kufij
pėr njė natė e krijoi njeriu i ri
duke braktisur shtėpinė e shoqėrinė
ngase s’e qiti me dashurinė
ky ishull qė duket si tavolinė
me njė shishe birrė dhe njė kuti cigare
ma kujton nėpėr mjegull vdekjen e mozzartit
jetėn tonė tė dashur teatrin e ēastit
nga s’e qiti me dashurinė
duke braktisur shtėpinė e shoqėrinė
nė mėngjes e gjetėn ishull njeri’n
nė mes tė oqeanit mbi tavolinė

 

NEW ISLAND

In the middle of the ocean with a thousand borders
A young human created it for one night
While abandoning the house of society
Unable to unite it with love

This island that looks like a table
With a pack a cigarettes and a beer bottle
Cloudily reminds me Mozart’s death,
Our beloved life the spontaneous theater

Because love didn’t emerge
While abandoning the house of society
In the morning a human was found in the island
In the ocean’s center over the table

  

SI TAMBĖL ZOGU

kronikan nostalgjik i luftės intime
ndėr bjeshkė obligimesh alpinist
si tambėl zogu mjelė nė fluturime
e pi kohėn time nė tavernė si turist


lahutar i mjerė nė sisteme tė teknikės
vetes e veglės ua transplanton fatet e jetimėve
orkestrina gjeniale e fabrikės
rrezikon simfoninė e pestė tė makinave
lumi ngjyros qiellin simbol autentik
vajzės sė pikėlluar njė pėrqafim fotogjenik
dhe pak tambėl zogu prodhim joprofesional

 

LIKE A SWEET BIRD

A nostalgic reporter of intimate war
An alpinist on the ridges of obligation
Like a bird’s sweetness extract while flying
And drink my time in a tavern like a tourist

A lute player in the technical systems
Transplants to himself the tools the destiny to orphans
The genial orchestra of the pant
Risking the car’s fifth symphony

The river is coloring the symbolical and authentic sky
My wounds are massaged by a lunar maestro
A photogenic hug to a saddened girl
And a little bird sweetness an unprofessional product

 

 

Anton Gojcaj, Montenegro, Albania
                       Translation:
Peter Tase, Milwaukee, Wisconsin

 


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