Poems by Tyran Prizren Spahiu

Poems by Tyran Prizren Spahiu
… being beyond imagination
in the kingdom beauty of paradise
the place where rivers flow wine
in the mortal youth as a mortgage
dancing me in hardly imaginative way
as the angel, eased I am
I do feel singing songs
In the depths of beauty
I found tranquility, spiritual addiction.
Distracted by the magic of pleasure
I closed my eyes, shine in me is carved
blessed harmony
wrapped me with flavor of infinite space
as part of this mysterious world
lured by the gifted eternity
eyes descend on the castle of heavens
hands move into this amazing power.
Going down to the source, the spring of life
crystal water sparks
as the silent lightning glitters
I am enjoying in the Permanent World of Youth.
… sudden Voice of The Poet…
Do, hear my voice
the one of the poet
disappointed is, rules brutality
they do envy, rushing, trying to bury
beautiful verses, the most sincere ones
many occupants
walk facing upwards, fed by backwardness
he, the Narcissus, swim in dirty waters
hidden, finding satisfaction in copying verses.
Do you see Plagiarists
look, there they are, behind a shadow of the devil
this ugly place welcomes them
at that polluted oasis, stinks the air
yes, do feel the power of verses in the Bohemian Poems.
Whereas in poet’s being, flavor reigns
more aware are of written wealth
reading thirsty, asking, what is happening?
Time says, I have found the source of beauties…
…master, takes pen, wrestling are letters
as storm they are rushing, attacking feelings
happy of being gifted by great God, golden pen engraves poetry
head back on the shelf, stands Original The Bohemian Verses.
High in the castle, surrounded by beauties,
silent, in secret place springs ,
armed with shield, uncommon simplicity,
lives modest life, far away from politicians.
Poets wander, how come we do not know him!
Where the unknown source roars!
Where he lives, we have not heard!
Maybe he was asleep, or of the bohemian time!
Departs, skips questions,
they say …MYTH, keeps the given word, he is the city wanderer,
at day break can be noticed at cobblestones,
at sunrise embraces downtown greenness.
Without a trace, like cosmic stillness,
with the beauty of fountain merges,
as the shadow disappears behind the Ancient Fortress,
as though … he is a myth of semidarkness.
Again late, when the city empties,
there he is, ranger looking for midnight pleasures,
hidden smile, radiates beyond views,
revives together with the medieval city of bohemians.


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