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Agron
Shele
1. MY MUSE
My muse!
What beauty do you hide within twilights?
What dreams you gave birth to beyond the forest glades?
What songs did you sing in the deep gorges?
What rays do you seek in the gloomy evenings?
My muse!
I stand at the silent crag.
Beat the silence through the eternity absorbed.
I see everywhere the old sunset
Everywhere appears dawn revived.
My muse!
The years and the grey hair like the
mountain crests,
brightening under the hidden fogs.
The spirit carved by the thin
pen,
Trembling, breaking, far away in the remote places
My muse!
I wonder, did you come as a curse
Or as a play played dizzily
I see the eyes of the girl hidden
And the tears transformed into
an emerald.
My muse!
Like a holy soul impels induces neglect forgetfulness
Why poets we became in the morning
Under the vagrant step the day passes by
In our apparitions life
2. Poetry
My dreams remained there,
Like thousand of icebergs in the boundless ocean
My mind penetrates beyond in the skies.
In other skies, journeys of poetry.
My dreams remained there,
In the vernal nights, full of stars.
Words that cause the soul shiver
And weaved the magic linen
My dreams remained there,
like the morning light.
With the yearning of autumn
And the drops of rain, melancholy.
My dreams remained there
Over the archs of rainbows, with meaningful colors.
The lucky day , hope and merriment,
arched paths of poetries.
3. Nė
Olimp vendoset drejtėsia
Zeus promised the eternal justice,
hidden,
stopped for many centuries
Sinners caught the sinners
the holiest of presents for the terrible “Had“
Everywhere supporters applauded absurdity(insanity)
And everywhere they tightened chains of innocence.
4. APOCALYPSE
For the heart,
wondered everywhere the cursers . . .
but, alas, the ill-fated,
could not force it out of the
soul.
5.
monastery
Bells rang again . . .
Again someone has passed away!
The last words, the only ones . . .
All remained at the monastery.
6. COHESION
Indeed!
How close we were yesterday!
Incredible!
How far we are today!
***
How many broken hearts,
How many deeply grieved souls,
How much tears and how much yearning,
The big crossroad stops!
7. BY THE LAKE
The autumn forgot you, O Lake, not I.
I came near you as always,
Barefoot
To feel your moisture.
The waves flow under the feet,
They twist and gossip;
Then turn away again
Melt away into the deep abysses.
The swallows flew away
People went away too,
Only the songs of the gulls
And my solitary steps
(The memory is written in the shapes of papyruses,
To refresh the past memory….).
Lengthy exhausted waves,
Twilight over your glass,
Shiny, cut stripes,
Thoughts that set out to route,
Thoughts that never stay at a place…
8. RETURN
I cursed the rain for the expelled dream,
The sleepy eyes sought your hair,
The smile,
Negligent steps.
Your shadow melted in the dalayed night.
I sought you everywhere
throughout the tracks of life,
You lost somewhere...,
Where...?
Perhaps into my yearning.
You silently took refuge.
Translated by Dritan Kardhashi
Petro Dudi
1. Breathing rock
This course
like the ancient one -
MASSACRE OF
THE SHARKS,
This tongue of man
how
bitterly it bites;
This shadow of dusk -
cries, the barking of dogs,
This heart of man
how much it darkens.
O cruel dream,
human mess,
Generation after generation
you did not cease listlessness, mourning;
you did not cease defamation,
rancor,
abuse,
vengeance.
O fate of the world,
O my fate,
What is this humiliation?
Why all this punishment?
Suffering corrodes the dream,
robbery spoils the hope,
Crime steals the sun,
betrayal – the ideal,
Hatred smudges the sky,
calamity blackens the home,
Desecration pollutes the soul,
the dead mourns the living.
I look for justice,
deception sets a trap,
Darkness overtakes today
even more than yesterday.
I seek grace,
everywhere everything appears deformed,
A hissing candle,
I cry where are you?
Where are you fate of the world,
You my fate?
Like the Scops owl,
I hoot entreatingly.
To the Money ruler
all villains
dedicate each-others’ lives;
They think they wear the golden necklace,
While on their throats
they fasten the noose.
O fate of the world,
O You, my fate,
What is all this fright?
What is all this ugliness?
Crowds – fans
staring at the ‘THRONEhorse’,
“The best” is chosen
and he becomes more evil than the evil.
All the time the tragicomedy
is
played
At every moment
love,
justice,
equality
are deformed.
The cursed,
o God,
who blessed them?
O fate of the world,
O my fate,
Isn’t there an opportunity?
Isn’t there a star?
Struggling I searched
among the clouds and the
lighting bolts,
The spirit of the generous people
was my guide.
For a moment I rejoiced
by a whisper of the DAWN,
Because this old wound
has a cure.
The spirit of the generous people
will guide my JOURNEY,
In this life,
there is ANOTHER LIFE.
That is why I remained a missionary
of the
dawns, innocent.
That is why I remained with the spirit like a sea
and the hope
like a gull,
I remained a warrior
and a singer in
the storm,
That is why I remained phantasmal
I remained
A
BREATHING ROCK.
3. Pain
In the shadow a silhouette,
An attempted assassin
without a pistol,
Tracks the passers-by of the night,
To kill the others’ honor,
To kill her own honor.
The night whispers:
Spy
Whore,
Harlot
Concubine
Wanton
Hetaera
Drab
Prostitute,…
Too many synonyms.
The whole portrait:
Pain.
Translated by Dritan Kardhashi
3. Miradije
Ramiqi, Pozharan, 1953, KOSOVO a poet and painter, is
an already well-known artist. Apart from her participation in numerous fine arts individual and collective exhibitions, she
has published the following books of poetry: “Shivering Colors” (1981), “Rain in the Mirror” (1990)
and “Kingdom Whisper” (1990), “The return of the broken silence”
2008.
POEMS
1. On the Crossroad
Now I don’t know
yet have I descend within myself
Or I have gone out of it
With one more tear
I have taken this road
To get there once
Without getting old from waiting
On the crossroad
From where I ’m being chased thro ugh wrinkles
That the longing steadily increases them
New I don’t know
Have I gone out myself
Or I’m closed in it
2. I’m Undressing the Nightgown
From where in this white room
Barricades made of cats’ nails
At the Studio starts to drip the sadness
The blood my first neighbor woke me again
From the winter sleep of tanned skin
To continue my travel through landscape
Which was stopped here many centuries ago
Unfinished drawing in black canvas
To undress the nightgown
The silence to turn into a candle I wonder
To go out of the wall that walls me.
Thirsty
While I was painting your portrait
A tear mixed the colors
The glass is dry
A tear of pain
Love of color
Was absorbed by canvas
The glass is broken
While I felt your presence
A tear is mixing colors
Where is your poor portrait
I wonder, what happened with thirsty.
4. Tomorrow I’ Il die
Tomorrow I’ Il die
If you say so
With the morning’s goodbye
I’ll take the goodness of life
And with the newspapers
Latest news
Then the greetings of the books on the shelf
I’ Il take by myself with the pain of soul
Tomorrow I’ Il take the death with myself
The first Event
Burning In Flames
A map of my blood
Compiled with pains
Wrinkled face through the Time
Your portrait (dis) appeared in centuries
Freedom My pure craving
Burnt color in painting
While melting in flames
My soul in eternity
In expectation
With a broken whispering.
Enrieta Sina
I broke the seven mirrors
In seven days I lived with my feeling for you
I had to break the seven mirrors to pieces
Because they were making me look ugly
The beauty was taken by you and left underground in the darkness
There you were finding your maturity
While I was feeding your maturity tree
Searching for my light...
2. To my children
If I have gathered the dream forgoten years ago
It wakes me up and hunts only the voices that offer tranquility
If I could not reach the white mountain top
There are thousands of ideas resting within you
If I happen to wake up with swallen and dried up eyes from tears
It is because the night for me brings just that longing for you
If one day I happen to depart this life
The eyes of my soul in the threads of your hearts will remain....
3. You do not know
My fingers becave cold reaching for your jacket
Up to your hair with profume
You stared me differently as if a black cloud was over me
My heart wanted to know how yours was beating
While that beating was not normal that evening
Everything was no longer important for you
My soul was migrating but could not find peace anywhere
Was gathered into a golden circle within the beauty of your eyes
But I do not know, there it could not find its place
You do not know if you'd be able to fly in my blue sky
It is something that I have not experienced myself
In the magic moment you create and make it grow
But you do not know! You do not know...
MUHARREM
KURTI
Translated by Dritan Kardhashi
Biographic notes
Muharrem Kurti was born in Smolice of Gjakova
in May 30, 1963. He attended the primary and secondary in Gjakova. Later he followed his high school in
Berat, whereas he attended his academic studies at "Aleksander Xhuvani" Elbasan, in the Faculty of Albanian Language and Literature.
After his return to kosovo in 1987 he was imprisoned and sentenced with 19 months for antagonistic propaganda.
He began to write poems since when in high
school in Berat. He has published poems in Albanian newspapers and magazines. In the literary competition held in the year
1981 he was awarded the first price with a volume of poems.
In addition to poems he writes stories, essays
and poems for children.
His published books are:
-“Evening Greenness", published in the
year 1998 publishing house "Rilindja" in Prishtina.
- Flower of return" published in the year 2000
publishing house "Marin Barleti", Tirana.
He is a member of the Association of the Kosovo
writers. Actually he is the head of the Literary Club "Gjon Nikoll Kazazi" in Gjakova.
He is the director of the primary school "Sylejman
Vokshi" in Gjakova.
He has written three other books that he will
publish them in a short future.
In the year 2008 he was announced the best
author of the city of Gjakova.
He lives in the city of Gjakove, "Konferenca e Bunjajt" str. Nr. 59. Telephone mobile 044 607 625
Email: muharremkurti@hotmail.com.
I
wonder
In the loneliness that fate bestowed to me
I always met with people of winter
I met people of the night
I met icy people
I never met people of light
I never met people of dawn
I wonder I might become
A wintry night
An icy loneliness
With the name of emigrant…
Elbasan ,1985
MEDITATION
If somebody
Seeks freedom
I can grant it for them
From the prison cells!
TODAY I AM NOT IN MIGRATION
Today I am not in migration
I do not stay with the ices of the roofs in the road
Today I am not an asylum seeker
As
s'ha ne hajm merzi
Today I am not homesick
Nor do I wrap up with the autumn’s leaves in my loneliness.
There is no rain in my eyes today
Nor do I anxiously remember for a phone call
Today I am not in migration
Shrunken and frozen like a glacier...
Gates
of entering and going out
My gate
Has a strange entry and exit.
Its entry is down.
Its exit up.
But I don’t know
When is it easier for me?
When I go down or when I go up?...
IF
Don’t you sing,
If you know not
How to mourn
Don’t you mourn,
If you know not
How to sing...
Translated by Dritan Kardhashi
Lumo Kolleshi
Hajk
The
tars weep
Bring
me a glass
To
gather these tears
Someone
whispered:
“The
bee died”
I
ran but I never found its grave.
Old
clock
The
hands strive to eat each other
Time
remains in the eyes of the blind.
Modern
hairdresser’s shop
Old
heads not far in the distance
Push
each other in the line for wigs.
Split ripen pomegranates
In
the traffic lights of the boughs
Cold
rains melt away upon them.
One
night I slept with the snake
I
felt terribly cold
In
the morning I had become Laocoön.
House
of a spider
The
fly comes to deliver official well wishes
A
house or a grave?
Loaded
with stars
The
date’s bough broke
The
stones of the alley get wounded
No
permissions for building in the offices of spring
The
swallows
Inaugurate
the illegal houses.
The
bloody night
Butterflies
come to die in the light
In
my studio.
A
beggar in the street
Called
me a “Gentleman”
While
in my pockets I had nothing but my soul.
At
the rock spring bed
The
thirst put its lips
The
beautiful girls broke the ewers.
Peace
often hangs the bloody shirt
At
an olive bough
How
many young seedlings do not grow to become old.
When you are absent
You
look for me there where I am not
I
await your failure to come.
Only
mountains never meet
They
separate passes and gorges.
I
am amazed with my heart
How
does it not cease beating in solitude?
A
flower blooms in the cold wind
The
rainbow opens its door in the rain.
In
the eclipse of the sun I search for light
And
I do not know where I shall look off
You
enter suddenly, and the grudges Melt away like dew in May
Dhimitėr Miti WPS
Never having the chance
A due moment?!
A happy life?!
A beautiful meaning?!
And never have a chance to kiss?!
The swallows came
The swallows returned from the warm lands
And a stick they brought for me as a present,
New glasses for my wife,
New epitaphs for the grandmother.
And some oil for the key of the door
Which has begun
To become rusty
(Taken from the volume “Knocking in vain”)
MIRELA DUDI
“CLEARING MY
SKY”
THE
HI CUP
The hi cup
has tied us everyday,
as a pigeon without wings ,
as a phone message
that needs not the words.
This sound from the deepness of heart,
hints your name inside me
as the twittering of nightingale,
that your brains steals in Spring.
This hi cup like a charmer,
brings you briskly closer to me,
hearing your spotless diction
makes you think of stream swirls.
But the marvel abides no more
and the hi cup just vanished away.
Your image dwindling through it
is dissolved somewhere far, far away.
Now I am left again forlorn,
full of blaze you kindled in me
I am astir ready to trumpet for the hi cup,
so that it can draw you back to me.
YOU , WHO HAVE NEVER BEEN
MY FRIEND.
Your voice sounds hard to me
as an endless alarm,
as a blow that disturbs your sleep,
as a cry of a man dying .
You speak from behind the rails,
as guilty you are and that’s what you pay.
Your nails try to catch after memories
that life in its store doesn’t keep.
Don’t ask from me any respect,
you have never thought to be a friend.
Your memory just makes me somber
here’s the line of my love, THE END!
January 2002
I
LOVE YOU
I love you,
but you still remain a dream
to be dreamt of only at midnight.
I
love you ,
but I don’t feel you so close,
as so close you are everyday.
I
love you
with thousands words that we never said,
which unite us again.
I love you,
because your worry
is my worry.
I love you,
but you never
have cared about it.
I don’t love you.
January 2002
DON’T !
1.
Don’t turn your back
with the hatred of a grumpy person.
Don’t hurt the gap that we dug it up.
Your love is like a shadow
which I follow and never give up.
2.
Don’t beg for what I can’t give you!
Don’t trap what is not your own!
You are not mine.
My body,
yours can never be .
January 2002
ETERNAL
YOUTH
You keep up as you have ever been,
the years sent the old age into exile.
Freshness reigns in your eyes,
though life never gave love to pass.
I see you walking proudly,
among people like a silent victor.
The youth, the biggest word ever loved
on every cell of yours is carved.
Your body perfectly forged by God
which is envied even by a cypress,
is kneeled only before Christ,
to ask for more grace inside.
But you have what a man needs the most,
the youth, by which even life is blessed .
That which Eve’s sin banished us is
gifted to you by God all
Anila Mihali
To
give birth to verses
Late
from the verse that
So much
tormented me,
I enter
into the warm bed sheets,
I am
sorry sweetheart,
I murmur
in his arms
Covered
with his body
And the
warmness of the bed…
I am
sorry, it was a difficult delivery.
If
The child
plays on the computer
He enters
into a castle, looking for a princess,
He already
wins the game, and becomes a king
How soon
he found happiness, how soon!
The adults
They
go on looking for happiness
The day
disappoints them;
The night
pardons them a little
If they
were to turn back the childhood,
The gods
of the old world!
There
where the borders divide
There
where the borders divide
…
Up to there the mother sees her daughter off
The shadow
of the sharp beam
Like
an apple divides the day…
Drunken
steps continue their way
The eyes
stretch the hands of glance
And they
ask:
“Until
when with tears and yearning
We shall
pave the paths of emigration?!”
Oath
of love
One at
a doorsill and the other at a door
They
kissed thirstily as before.
The years
forgot each other
Love
did never forget what it promised.
The moment
shed light to a memory
It rode
the love.
A long
way full of suffers
Heart
broken to pieces…
One at
a doorsill and the other at a door,
They
did not burst like the glass of wine.
Image
The knocks
of the stick on the ground
Like
the beats of the clock in the room
Like
the beats of the heart in the chest
Like
the drops of rain under eaves.
All the
‘tic-tac’ sounds disappear
At the
endless road
Arduous
you scold ferociously
While
resting upon the stick…
The
flowers
The rose,
the pink, the snow flower,
Which
of them I hold closer to my heart
I cannot
say which.
I feel
pleasure in cutting it.
I marvel
beyond reason
When
they offer it to me
The rose,
the pink, the snow flower…
Which
of them is more beautiful?
I do
not know.
The beautiful
thing becomes more beautiful
Only
when it comes from you
I do
not know what made me drunk
The flower,
the hand or the heart that broke…
Rustem Keko
To mother
You are the sweetest
of all women in the world,
you are angelic,
(Merlyn Monro).
Mother, trouble-laden,
joy and tears together,
you ruffle my hair,
“Are
you tired, son?
The
Father
my dead father,
Looking at me with a smile.
From an old portrait.
I lowered my eyes
because of shame. Lacking
spirit...
“Raise your eyes, son!”
Full
of affection
Father’s lips spoke.
Tears,
under the eye lids,
became
dry.
my
cold heart,
(Surprisingly)
Warmed the father.
The
icon of Jesus with the heart like a Sun
In the death bed
I languished for three days.
Scythe of Death scythed
The heart of Jesus,
mbi vete mė ndehu,
nga thonjt’ e shtrigės,
me gjak, mė rrėmbeu.
With the bread of Eastern,
Like a bird he fed me.
with the red wine
Dyed my heart
In the verge of the adolescence
Like a pearl of dew, under the sun
of time,
the childhood melted, with a shawl
tattered.
And the yellow fluf, upon
the
velvet lips,
mocks the sweaty and exhausted
child.
A vague
Memory
I would never
forget
even
the kisses
Under
the pines covered with snow,
Neither the words
full of passion,
Under the Moonlight,
A
Red
Rose upon the subsided
grave.
Yearning
and heavy
sorrow,
Memory
of Serene.
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