Tag: Albania

Categories
Poetry

Three poems by Irma Kurti

Photo Courtesy: Biagio Fortini
RAIN AND TEARS

Can the tears be wiped off in a day
like this, or hidden behind my dark 
glasses, when the sun doesn’t shine, 
when the dark gray clouds invade
the sky, brewing the storm within?

Can the tears be wiped off on a day
like this, or can they be disguised?
The rain descends from the heavy 
clouds, hitting my hair and glasses;
hard to distinguish rain from tears. 


AMID THE PAINS

When you smile amid the pains, 
Father, it is not like a ray of sun 
in a cloudy sky, nor a rainbow in 
the tempest, nor a happiness or a
joy that enlightens my heart.

When you smile amid the pains
that don’t leave your weak body,
I see the portrait of this life filled
with beauty and pain, light and 
shade, joy and despair, and then,
my fragility turns into strength.


THE NECKLACE

Don’t shed tears in front of people
who consider them raindrops that 
flood their road—people that can’t
feel your sorrow, the ones that go
away not to sadden themselves.
 
Tears now roll down your cheeks,
and slowly, they reach your neck, 
form the most beautiful necklace,
so clear, limpid, and transparent.

Irma Kurti is an Albanian poetess, writer, lyricist, journalist, and translator. She is a naturalised Italian. She has won numerous literary prizes and awards in Italy and Italian Switzerland. Irma Kurti has published 26 books in Albanian, 17 in Italian, 8 in English and two in French. She is also the translator of 11 books of different authors and of all her books in Italian and English.  

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Categories
Poetry

The World is Sneezing

By Ndue Ukaj

The world is sneezing The world is sneezing in front of a virus that has bound the earth and shakes it like a light toy. People are panting like dogs after a long and aimless journey. Everyone panting, and behind walls they compose a symphony of fear. Ahead of us, more scary walls and glum news. The planet - like a trembling heart - is shuttered and is listening to lightning. Tonight, the moon was beautiful but in the light of her face I saw the troubled eyes of a weary world. The day was sunny too. I was sitting in the back seat of a car snaking through silence and fear and I saw nature breathing without humans. The clockwise are slow now. Girls take their time getting out of their pajamas. Women say their rosaries for new time. And men like me are terrified in front of the black glass. (Also terrified are those who sit in huge castles and on high thrones.) Beyond is silence like a raging ocean where ships drown with longing - and prisoners see Eden burning. The clockwise move slowly now. The news spreads fear faster than the virus. One counts the hours of life ahead and sees the final destination - death. Younger ones pant like tired dogs and put out cigarettes in their burning hands. Children fill sacks with toys and, confused, wait for a new day. But there are also those who don´t need clocks and calendars: that old man sitting under his beloved tree, doctors who fight to save more lives. Groups of reporters roam, like the wind that warns of worsening weather. Bad news is growing they say because some people have closed their windows on good news. The media is full of sadnesses and troubling reports overflowing with viruses and microbes. Humanity sneezes anxiously. In this long night of frightening darkness. I sit in the back seat and watch the evil hearted sneeze but also hear kindhearted voices confessing on the altar of forgiveness. But when the cathedral bells ring everyone turns their eyes to heaven. They sneeze again and pant, and pray that tomorrow the world will get better and celebrate a great mass of love. Laura’s Sunday In her city there is a ruined cathedral in the midst of ruins its choir is missing and there is an “Ave Maria” song. On the road edges, stones relieve pain only the choir traces are together with dry flower bouquets There are many dogs, and trash There is a large piano without its proper place. In her city there is a ruined cathedral longing for bells’ sounds to awaken her she wears a beautiful dress, whispers Ave Maria in solitude. She has a sweet voice, every Sunday she goes into the ruins, talks with stones, with flowers that do not blossom easy Through ruins and wipes her happy eyes without trying the voice in a choir. It is Sunday and her delighted eye is resting She sings Ave Maria in solitude. With an eraser of love she erases time’s invoice which leaves behind while gathering her hands over her pretty breasts, in silence opens the new page and writes a senseless verse. It is Sunday she is awakened while dreaming a love temple and song sounds. Ave Maria is alive! and waits for nature to become prettier, the same as a flower is prettier with all its beauty, and to join the choir of life. She walks over the ruins of the cathedral and lights a candle her pretty knees touch the solid stones.

Ndue Ukaj (1977) is an Albanian writer, publicist and literary critic.
His poems has been included in several anthologies of poetry, in Albanian, and other languages. He has published several books, including Godo is not coming, which won the national award for best book of poetry published in 2010 in Kosovo. He has also won the award for best poems in the International Poetry Festival in Macedonia and another prize. His poems and texts are translated into English, Spanish, Italian, Romanian, Finnish, Swedish, Turkish and Chinese. Ukaj is member of Swedish PEN.