Seria e Autoreve Qipriote (Turqi)
Autori i poezise dhe befasise poetike Rumune Dorin Cozan
Autorja e njohur Corina Gina Papouis! Mrekullia poetike midis orientit dhe moderrnizmit
Poeti bashkėkohor Qipriot -Turk Ahmet Ómeraga
Seref Ozturk
Adelina Dardha,nje ze i ri qe perthyen shtigje poezish
Autorėt Pėrmetarė
Artisti i madh i Folklorit Popullor Vasil Ēuri
Autorėt e perkthyer ne Turqi !
Prezantimi Poeteve : Lediana Paja
Prezantim i talenteve tė rinj :Ivana Dervishi
Seria e Autoreve Qipriote (Turqi)
Poetja Bashkėkohore Nese Yasin
Poeti bashkėkohor Atilla Elüstün
Impresionim i autorit Patrick Sammut IWA Malte
Kumte dhe esse
Agron Shele WPS Sinan Vaka WPS
Impresionime nga takime Kombetare dhe -Nderkombetare
Deklarata e Prespes
Imazh i Rreme
Ese dhe vleresime per autorin
Beyond the Grey Curtain
Ahmet N Murati Midis lirikave dhe zjarrit tė pashuar pėr dinjitet dhe liri kombėtare!






  She was born in Nicosia, Cyprus on 7th March 1961. She is a Turkish-Cypriot. Residing in London.Working for NHS-Child Health.Her interests are travelling, reading books, writing poems also enjoys listening to folk and classical music. Her precious creations consist of her 3 daughters.

7 Mart 1961 Lefkoşa doğumlu, Londra'da ikamet ediyor. Halen, ulusal Sağlık Servisleri- Ēocuk Sağlığı bölümünde ēalışmaktadır.

yürüyüş yapmayı, seyehat etmeyi, kitap okumayı, şiir yazmayı seviyor, ayrıca folk ve klasik müzik hayranı, yaratmış olduğu en değerli hazinesini 3 kızı oluşturmaktadır.



Gunsel Djemal ka lindur ne Nikosia, Qipro me  7 Mars 1961.Ajo eshte turke qipriote.Aktualisht  jeton ne Londer dhe punon per NHS-Shendeti Femijeve.Hobi saj eshte udhetimi,leximi librave,poemat,folku muzikor dhe muzika klasike.Ajo ka tre vajza.



I am on fire!


tongue is dumb/until the loving heart
the heart is dumb
until it beats
you have the iron eyes/of the guitar
play the music/i am addressing you
rusty old lyrics/rolling in the air
let us make love
come on sir, dish me out
i am on fire!

I am

i am Athena’s bird
in the sky
one colourful band
eyes are overcast/cloud
white as snow erasing the sorrow on faces
i am the moon
and here to make all uncertain dreams come true….
hope, meaning and faith/the star
the olive tree
the blessing of the lands
the jasmine plant
clear water...
the lover/Aphrodite
i am Paris's conflagration 1789
the Five Finger Mountains
rebelling in the skies
greeting from the south
i am the Trodos mountain
will embrace from the north
madly Mediterranean
longing for the re-birth of Aphrodite
waiting for you to kiss me from my rosebud wet lips
i am CYPRUS...

MY LOVE -II- & - III -


i am scared of approaching you
i can’t tell/how desperately i want to make love to you

i had slept at your bosom, touched your skirts
sat at your peak…

if there is no place left

is mountain finally a mountain?
i am discovering you everyday…

my suffering is different/another

to stand at your slope and to look at you, hear you,
breath you, until today never re-united, so that
i want to become you… and I become you

i want your face to face to mine, your eyes to look into my eyes,
your smell to mix with mine, your stones to my stones, my soul
to talk with yours, i want my birds to fly with yours.
i am flying towards you
and i am discovering…


if you were only one man, every man,
i wouldn’t even look at you
if you were a mysterious God
i wouldn’t worship…i know…
i am discovering you

and when i am loving you
i define love
LOVE is not invented, it’s discovered affection…


I missed you!


in the middle of the sea
gliding in emptiness
i stopped and looked from remoteness
your eyes inside their green/
the waves were in a terrible mess
foams twinkled
and turned into one white moon
from your face reflected to mine
suddenly gale breaks out
in whispers, in a whisper
the sea was ripped from its place/
by the winds of your hair
i have come passing over the horizon
to extinguish the foams in my hands
and the gale should go back
open your arms and embrace
let us mix into the phosphorescence
to get rid of our loneliness
my darling
i missed you!



ekziston  njė

Zemėr e gėrvishtur


Unė thėrras dhe Ai flet:

“E dashura ime Unė rrugės sime…”

Zilja e derės tingėllon

Dhe ai arrin

Para hyrjes

Nė dhomėn e bardhė tė larjes

Ai me delikatesė troket.

Me tė shpejtė unė vrapoj

Dhe hap derėn.

Ai qėndron nė kėmbė i gjatė, i lodhur

Dhe me pak kurriz prapa

Thotė : “Unė jam kėtu!”

Porsa  ai rri ndenjur nė anė

tė shtratit.

Gjeja e parė qė thotė:

“Ti nuk… pija ime dehėse”.

Telefoni i tij bie.

Ai thotė : “Unė jam rrugės sime!”

Unė kuē me shikimin tim ngulmues nė drejtim tė tij.

Ai kthehet dhe rri ndenjur ngjitur nga unė .

Thotė: “ Tė lutem , mos mė mė trishto mua!...”

Unė fėrkoj kurrizin e tij dhe pėrkėdhel qafėn e tij tė gjatė.

Thotė se ai duhet tė ikė, tė shkojė dhe ai tė kthehet tė nesėrmen,

Pėrqafohem dhe nuhas lėkurėn e tij tė dėrsitur.

“Po ēfarė nė lidhje me atė…?”Unė rri ndenjur nė kėtė

shtėpi me tulla guri gjithė ditėn e gjatė,

Lava ēorapet e tua,  veshjet e brendshme

Ajrosa mbulesat e krevatit

Kundėrshtinė e tij pėr tė qėndruar.

Unė qėndroj mbi gishtat e kėmbės

Pėrqafohem dhe e puth atė…

“Natėn e mirė”, kthehem te krevati im i zbrazur

Dhe kjo mė gėrvish  tej  zemrėn time

Duke dėgjuar fqinjėt

Dashurinė duke e bėrė gėzim.


2  . * * *

Pa njė vend


duke tė bėrė dashuri ty

njė minutė

tė pėshtysh sekondėn

nuk mjafton,

ekziston  njė skėterrė e policisė

   nė Stamboll.


nė Stamboll.


Translation by: Günsel  Djemal




Biography of Atilla Elüstün

He is the second son of a teacher mother and civil servant father. He was born on 16/08/1961 in Ankara. He had his primary, secondary and High school education there. He had to postpone his education because of the worst period in Turkey; political, economic and political   chaos.
Then they moved to Istanbul with his family. Since primary school he was interested in literature, significantly poetry and was involved in various activities and educational studies.
Some of his poems were published in various literature magazines e.g.: Sair Cikmazi Dergisi-Dead End Poets Society Magazine, Yalin Ayak Dergisi-Bare Foot Magazine, Yasayan Yarin Edebiyat Dergisi-Living Darling Literature Magazine, because of the economic crises are not making profit he carries on working.
He has two sons Halit Dogus and Mustafa Baris and Atilla addresses them as his treasures. Atilla is a very humble person and leads a modest life

Hit the roads (180°)

don’t go wait
we’ve got unfinished business
fragile days
at the courtesan nights
with my naked dreams
I must come to you
don’t go wait
we’ve got lots of unfinished business
we will gather dreams
mute darling
hit the roads (180°)
if lived without questioning
without comments/borderless
the past is beautiful and
morrow as well...

Poem by: Attila Elüstün 18.11.2009
Translation by: Günsel  Djemal

when mystery descended
to the shores of Erenkoy
our dreams are hazy
saddened and guiltless
the foxes' don't throw
satanist javelins
into our brains
without underestimating
we keep alive our
the rest of our days
will be lived preciously
we don't intend to walk
double-faced on the streets
and not to delineate the
sadness in our green eyes
we beat it in our hearts
even if it would hurt
every single bit of us
we don't repeat words
we don't get offended
we have no intention of offending the night
will pierce the horizon
once again.
with a warm smile
.../our place
we know our limit.

Poem by: Atilla Elüstün- İstanbul
Translation by: Günsel Djemal -London

There isn't a centre of love

There isn’t a centre of love

“fear and be wrathful of the wine
because it is badly red”
Attila Ilhan

tonight the wine is badly red
i have wrapped the stars into my tobacco
rainbow in its smoke
i am aged she is fresh
is it because of that?

i don’t understand anything from what I am drinking

there are droppings of a thousand fragments of steam, on my table
one of which is…my love
the moss tastes like fish green like Bogaz
i am questioning my past, in the pages of dream
is it because of that?

i don’t understand anything from what I am drinking
my heart is rear, one dark horse
wired phosphorescence in his mane
stars, sea and the moon
on her lips, sorrowful one rosebud

can not keep-up
is it because of that?

tonight the wine is badly red
i don’t understand anything from what I am drinking.

Poem by: Atilla Elüstün 30.12.2002/2004 - İstanbul
Translation by: Günsel Djemal - 2004-19/2/2009 - London

its sword in hand
the night
is approaching me
on my mind...
the grey hair of my battle
and my loneliness
it’s the lovesick season
the pen fell in love with the paper
the agony on my guitar
on my tongue
your favourite/that
melancholy tune
my dream a pensive duck

as the hours struggle

Poem by: Atilla Elüstün - İstanbul
Translation by: Günsel Djemal-London


Neşe Yaşın  was born in 1959 in Cyprus. She is a poet well known and read on both sides of divided Cyprus. She studied Sociology at Middle East Technical University in Ankara.

She directed and presented a literary program called “41st Room” at CYBC  radio (1992-2007) and the program Peace Garden (2001-2003) at radio ASTRA.

She is currently teaching  language and literature at the Turkish Studies department of University of Cyprus, writing weekly columns for  BirGün newspaper (Turkey) and Yenidüzen newspaper (Cyprus).

 She has published six volumes of poetry ‘Hyacinth and Narcissus’ (1979), ‚Tears of Wars’  (1980), Doors’ (1992),  ‚The Moon is Made of Love’ (2000),  Chambers of Memory’ (2005 ) Selected poems (2008)  and one novel ‚Secret History of Sad Girls’ (2002). Her poetry has been translated to 20 languages, published in literary magazines and anthologies. She has participated in poetry festivals and readings around the world. Among others she has received the Anthias Pierides Award in 1998.



Once there were knocks on doors

and women used to open them

life used to pass by

dusted and polished each day


Those who

longed for a great love

so as to watch their own beauty

through the centuries

to be frozen like a painting was their desire


From little girls

they grew up like docile saplings

and wearing glittering wedding rings on their fingers

entered prisons

like white doves


Some took to the streets

not even becoming mothers

some became falling stars and disappeared

some hang themselves on a rosebush

waiting for life without a question


The window sparkled

the washing ironed

but never a knock on the door

the man who would love madly

never arrived


The world was a horse carriage

and women pulled it at top speed

how could they not understand

that  a woman was the strongest

and the word freedom

was like a new year's eve party in the sky

they should never find the right dress

they could never go


They were just surprised

at the men's soldier-dress

and for the midnight watches

they knitted sweaters

to be worn secretly under uniforms


Life knitted by pain with fine needles

wounded by bullet holes

their dowries trampled upon without pity

every time man massacred man

they lost those most cherished husbands and sons

Tears and loneliness burnt in candles

incense burners smoked

in cold widow rooms


Their photographs were on the walls

the sons, husbands and in the hands of guns

the thick eye brows, hard looks, thick moustaches

ruled their homes


Interfering with everything from where they were

from the door knocker to the food in the pan

their shouts still ringing all around

while children like kittens hid behind their mothers' skirts


They prayed and prayed

and carried myrtle branches

to the graves on every festive day

longing was lived with imperceptible pain

silently descending

from the heart to the groin


Once there were knocks on the doors

and women used to open them

life used to pass by

dusted and polished each day.








No permission to cross

in reality it is the traces of hope which disappear

days spent in longing have turned to grief

Don’t wait for me

in the other cell of sorrow


No access to love

(Our Army is our greatest security)

I kept looking at the stars tonight

hoping you were looking too


Your message for a meeting has reached me

in a different country

at a different time


But I can’t wait

the yellow snake called time

keeps writhing inside me


I have fallen into unpostponable longings

I must see you today


I will tell everyone I am in love with you

even the policeman at the check-point

I will tell everyone your forbidden name


I will then walk through

dressed like a cat


Wait for me

take me in your arms

I will say “miow” to you in Turkish.



Enter content here

Enter supporting content here