Andrew brought this poem to our group the night our theme was “Poets You Can’t Get Rid Of.” He wrote it in the archaic Albanian spoken by his family. He then translated it into English. Hearing him read it aloud was remarkable: before I heard it in Albanian I could sense the beauty the words contained, even though they were rough and strange to my ears. My intuition was probably more at work than my brain.
The Moon
Hunza
Mu lurree ktu
Vehtem
Put shochk
Vareyiun
Put gyehgen lullaht
Chuh thonyun
Koosh tu doh?
Ooh tu doh.
*
The Moon
Left me here
Alone
To watch
The wind
Listen to the flowers
That say
Who wants you?
I want you.
Andrew Accario
The poem is so pure. So full of love and hope.
Hope is my bridge between winter and spring.
As our group gathered in my living room this winter, as Andrew read, I could see the base of an oak tree heaped with stones and empty acorn shells left behind by the squirrels. But, I knew that underneath that rugged crust, lilies of the valley waited. Now tall and green, their creamy white flowers bring the scent of dignified innocence to the warm May air.
Poets Read Poetry 