poet Masiela Lusha

Masiela Lusha

Comments about Masiela Lusha

  • Michael Shepherd (7/11/2006 6:22:00 AM)

    Masiela, welcome to Poemhunter, this wonderful mixture of 'poetry' of every conceivable sort!
    If these poems were indeed written when you were twelve, then they and you are truly remarkable.
    I'm guessing that they were primarily 'thought' in eloquent Albanian, and then translated by yourself or another. They have an attractive poetic 'address', and a natural drama that freshens poetry.So there are nice 'surprises' of the unexpected word in English - and also several awkwardnesses of phrasing, 'dictionary English'.
    I think you might consider revising them (certainly not scrapping) later on when you have time.
    I'm guessing that you were well taught in grammar and expression, and that you have read Rilke with admiration, and perhaps Pablo Neruda.
    At the moment, I admire Roma I for its Rilke-like conspectus, and Gravestones for its straightforwardness and wise ending. And A Man of Forty is a touching empathy.

    I hope we shall hear more from you. And would you like to correct the too many errors of transcription? And perhaps date your poems, so that we can appreciate what we hope will be a continuing development?

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Best Poem of Masiela Lusha

Drinking The Moon

I have planned and dreamt of this trophy of gold,
The halo of silver, around in which it molds.
I have cradles this idea and nursed it to true plan,
I have fed it seeds of confidence, O this is so grand!

How lofty atop your kingdom's throne you rest,
Pray, dim these stars, for (alone) your grace shines best.
No cloud can cloak your clean face of white,
For however masked, somehow, somewhere, you glow so bright!

You have marked your loyal entrance through water and sky,
I cannot quite reach you, but by me you lie.
A bed of water, I have crafted for ...

Read the full of Drinking The Moon

Fire

Near. So near that you can kiss me.
I can see the gods dancing
Inside your belly,
And they break away star by star
From the tips of your curling
Fingers pointing up to their bed of waiting
Companions.

You release them, and you send them away.