THE LANGUAGE WE ALL REMEMBER: POETRY

Prof. Dr. Jeton Kelmendi (Kosovo – Belgium)

Jeton Kelmendi is a famous poet, player, publicist, translator, publisher and a professor of university and academic. Born in Kosovo (1978), he continued his studies at the University of Pristina and received the degree of Bachelor of Arts in Mass communication. He completed his post-graduate studies at the Free University of Brussels, Belgium, specializing in International and Security Studies. He finished his second master degree in diplomacy. Kelmendi did a PhD in the “Influence of media in EU Political Security Issues”. He is professor at AAB University College. He is active member of the European Academy of Science and Arts in Salzburg Austria.. According to a number of literary critics, Kelmendi is the genuine representative of modern Albanian poetry. He received more then 50 international and national awards. He has published 11 poetry books, 12 books on political sciences and he has translated more that 70 books. His poetry is translated in and published 42 languages.

1- Come out of yourself, emigrate

The courage to trust the feeling
overcomes fear

feeling is the courage of faith in human
the whole event takes place over feelings
and you can not have faith
in love, when the mind lends, reason

both faith and courage prevail
at least the timing of things to come
or I become the event myself
that should happen as it is best
otherwise you have come out of yourself
you emigrated
where no one sees you
neither faith nor courage
can not out of fear
but strong by the power of love
go and become soul events
that only with the soul they occur
The beautiful things.

the event continues
in the next act of life.

2- Immovable Game

The time will come
then, when you are ready
to get yourself to the top
opening the door, the evening wait prepared
that, who will want the welcome
of the other,
You or me

and say, get ready. Depart
you will like your understanding patience
give time, give love, give your whole self
the other who is afraid to give in to you

all the rules of the game, obey
for the game, to know you through rites
write down unforeseen events,
photograph the silence
and removed the appearances of chastity
Tell the truth
and go fast,
sit at your reception, wait for me,
I’m coming,
I’m coming to play the game.

Barbara Di Sacco (Italy)

Barbara Di Sacco is an Italian poet, born in Tuscany in 1964. Drawing inspiration from the beautiful nature, she writes poems in free verse, conjures up metaphors and recounts her own memories tied to her life and her dearest places.
Touching up diverse topics, her writing waves love and peace, placing herself against war and observing human and civil rights, while denouncing the abuse of power on the weak and the planet.She has faith in the power of words.

The dance

The jubilant rock
the dance blooms
on beauty’s wings
the celebration claps
singing, it spins
nudity promoted.
Joyful ladies
gracious, around in circles
between cheerful laughter
to the beautiful Apollo
and beneath, there sat down
the cherub is having fun.

Sensual dance of Venus
candid, prosperous moons
under the light of bosoms.

Those voluminous curls
and mischievous on the laughter
and falling dresses
light up rhythms
of swaying steps.
Him, tall, him, Adonis
opens up his arms
to innocence
which flies violent
and bows and drapes
of composed allegory
that’s the party.

Farewell ode

Low and dark
profile
under the bent head
towards the gloomy idea
of tragedy forerunner
of the lyrical melodrama.
The unhappiness of love,
the farewell ode to jealousy
and the unrequited epitaph
by the impossible love
so professed
by singing its diversity.

The deep folds
on the dress
are sores of its own heart
lyre, friend
of sad odes.
The snake around the wrist
always awake is, to Eros.
Your white pose
or Sappho
today, even more panting, as
a black veil, on you the befall
now that your sculptor
feels inspired, out of the blue.

Translated into English by Francesca Bartolozzi

Dimitris P. Kraniotis (Greece)
President of the World Poets Society (WPS)
Dimitris P. Kraniotis was born in 1966 in Larissa Prefecture in central Greece and he grew up in Stomio (Larissa). He studied Medicine at the Aristotle University of Thessaloniki with MSc in Medicine at the University of Thessaly.
He lives in Larissa (Greece) and works as a medical doctor (internal medicine specialist). He is the author of 11 poetry books in Greece and abroad. He has won international awards for his poetry which has been translated in 36 languages & published in anthologies & magazines in many countries around the World. He has been invited and participated in several International Poetry Festivals. He is Doctor of Literature, Academician, President of the 22nd World Congress of Poets (UPLI), President of the World Poets Society (WPS), Director of the Mediterranean Poetry Festival (Larissa, Greece), Chairman of the Writers for Peace Committee of PEN Greece, Αmbassador of the Movement “Poetas del Mundo” to Greece and member of the World Poetry Movement (WPM) and of “Poets of the Planet” (POP).
His official website:https://www.dimitriskraniotis.com/

Land and water

Raining borders
That threaten me
And I break down doors
To get lost
Beyond deadlines
Inside bodies
That I ignore

A stranger among
my own sins
Stealing land and water
I will defend myself

With cutlery
I decorate the bread
That I buried as a boy
For dreams
That are still hungry
And which I’m stealing irrationally

First recitation

I shouted
On and on
Throwing
Euphemistic whispers
On the floor

Hanging verses
On the wall
With syllables like nails
That until now
I was afraid to write

In beds like prisons
That until now
I’ve been burning to enter
To listen at
What I wrote
When I was absent

Rakela Zoga (Albania)

Rakela Yzeiri (Zoga) was born in the city of Korça, Albania. The passion for literature was early, but she would reach artistic maturity after higher studies at the “Language – Literature” Faculty, where she presented herself and affirmed her name in the most popular publications of the time, in the most important periodicals of the country; “Voice of the Youth”, ” Light”, “November”, and others. After that, her literary creativity was published in many newspapers, literary magazines and several anthologies in Albania, Kosovo, Greece, Italy, etc. These publications established her creative personality and wider recognition in the field of letters. Rakela is a special voice, a poet of lyricism and exaltation, and as such she travels through verse, in the inexhaustible muse and colors that touch the soul. She lives with poetry, meets silence and dreams, merges with words and all this to experience true art and leave an indelible mark in Albanian literature. He currently lives and works in Greece.
She has published the poetic volumes: Let’s remain friends, , Come tonight, Swan in the fog, Wake up on an autumn day.

Memory delay

I didn’t for a moment recognize you,
I don’t know whether it was the fog’s fault,
That covered your head,
Or the crumbling time,
By the fingers of the witch season

It’s impossible not to recognize you,
But it’s no matter, I found you,
Just a moment,
That gray memory was delayed,
To arouse your portrait,
Stuck for years, inside my head…

It left!

Good morning, my longing!
That you left and abandon me,
So far I couldn’t stop you,
You got tired of this long silence,
Of this sinful love…

You’re a treasure in my heart,
Whenever I tried to wipe a tear away,
You awaken me,
And kisses sparkled in my eyes,
But I know my longing you’re tired,
Of holding you in my heart!

The Agony of Loneliness

Hand in hand with loneliness, in years,
It smiles with me, a precious tear,
That shines at night like a firefly,
And never let the light of thoughts,
To fall asleep…

At first, it was afraid, if ever I’d leave it,
And asked me to hold it in my arms,
But it’s been grown so much,
That even reached the great twilight.

It revolved around the sunset,
A wildfire sweeps through a forest,
Suddenly, the escaped birds stopped the song,
The twigs of trees snapped, fell in agony!

Translated into English by Raimonda Moisiu

Shoshana Vegh (Israel)

Shoshana Vegh – a poet, a writer, an editor, a translator from English in to Hebrew and a publisher, born in Ashkelon, 1957, Israel. M.A in Hebrew literature from Bar Ilan university. Lives in Netanya. Her first poems were published in an anthology in 1980. In 2009, she founded a publishing house called “Pyutit” that specialises in publishing poetry books. Edited six anthologies of poetry and edited almost 200 books in her publishing house . Her poetry has been published in many international magazines and anthologies in several languages. She translated and published four books from English into Hebrew in the last year. She wrote 20 books herself: poetry, and prose. She is a head of a local poetic group in her city. She is a winner of few scholarships for literature at her publishing and honoured for her poetry books.

Rain at Jerusalem

At the phone with the writer Miriam from Jerusalem.
While it’s raining in Netanya,
We are updating the details form.
She wants her book to be in the religious stores,
she has a very large audience.
She has already printed five editions,
with modesty and dignity, she wrote
about the psychological world of a soul-challenged illness,
life in a madhouse.

She wrote everything under a pseudonym.
And when we finished talking,
a loud thunder and powerful rain began.
I ask “Miriam, is it raining in your Jerusalem too?”
She answers,
“Yes, it rains here too,
but the rain in Jerusalem falls quietly.”

Foodstuff of a poet

I want to feed you
Lots of metaphors
bunches of images
I want to dress you
A dress with moon buttons
I will widen the horizon for you
You need to see far
I can give this to you
Only spiritual fruits
When you ask for soup
I can make a soup of symbols
I don’t have the strength to cook
I’m starting to forget
and the main dish
I want to submit to you
in words
What is left behind
It will be what I wrote
The rest will be deleted as it is
in a song
Everything is dust in the wind
And you will know
Only love conquers all
At this life
They are a terrible confusion
And I only want you to eat
from the hands of the spirit
At the end you whisper a thank me
When I leave to be among my ancients
After all, I will not live forever
to give you food

Vo Thi Nhu Mai is a Vietnamese-born poet, literary translator, and educator based in Western Australia. With a Master’s degree in Literature and over two decades of teaching experience across Vietnam and Australia, she actively promotes multicultural literacy through poetry and translation. Her bilingual works have been published internationally, and she is the editor of two major anthologies—The Rhythm of Vietnam and The Graceful Folds of Time—featuring English translations of poems by over 250 Vietnamese writers worldwide. Passionate about cultural connection, she frequently performs bilingual readings and advocates for Vietnamese literature through her long-standing website: vietnampoetry.wordpress.com.

HOMETOWN
(by Vo Thi Nhu Mai)

Dear mother, I have gone faraway
Twenty springs with happiness and sadness collected
Days passing in the blink of an eye
Night lightened by thousand stars in the sky

I carry your image, sugarcane and strawberry field
Sounds of bullets and bomb echoed in my memory
Father’s sutra was left unfinished
The bell of Linh Son temple praying

I whisper the word HOMETOWN
It sounds affectionate because hometown is you, mother
Rice grains have nurture me from birth
I’m also nurtured by grandma’s lullaby
and grandpa’s yard sweeping sound

I have seen many rivers
But none are as impressive as O Lau
Filled with salt water in Laotian wind season
When the drought comes, plants are watered

In the foreign land I feel sad
in the afternoons tilting towards the clouds
I have nothing to offer but hometown longing
Sweet from my breath
Thinking of every single hometown dust sacred

I will be back to visit many places
As if searching for lost time
I will hug you so tight lovingly
Listening to the rain song

Whatever happens I always love where I was born
Every country is full of earthy pain
Every country is up and down
But only hometown owns you, mother

You are in your hunched back
A question mark for my very own life
 

Rakela Zoga (Albania)

Rakela Yzeiri (Zoga) was born in the city of Korça, Albania. The passion for literature was early, but she would reach artistic maturity after higher studies at the “Language – Literature” Faculty, where she presented herself and affirmed her name in the most popular publications of the time, in the most important periodicals of the country; “Zëri i Rinisë” (Voice of the Youth), “Drita” (Light), “Nëntori” (November), and others. After that, her literary creativity was published in many newspapers, literary magazines and several anthologies in Albania, Kosovo, Greece, Italy, etc. These publications established her creative personality and wider recognition in the field of letters.
Rakela is a special voice, a poet of lyricism and exaltation, and as such she travels through verse, in the inexhaustible muse and colors that touch the soul. She lives with poetry, meets silence and dreams, merges with words and all this to experience true art and leave an indelible mark in Albanian literature.

She has published the poetic volumes:
Let’s remain friends
Come tonight
Swan in the fog
Wake up on an autumn day
He currently lives and works in Greece.

Today!

Yet feel the pang of longing, deeply rooted memories,
Yet salted tears and pain, melting into my eyes…

Sot!

Zgjoj dhimbjen e mallit, shtruar me kujtime.
Plagët me lotin e kripur i tret brenda syve…

This winter!

All my past loves,
This winter settled on my eyes,
Traces of sadness are depicted on my face,
Embraced tight by the wet trees,
Feeling the breath of the woodland,
Heartlessly abandoned…

Ky dimër!

Ky dimër më uli në sy, gjithë dashuritë që shkuan.
Dhe gjurmë trishtimi shoh në fytyrë.
Përqafohem me trungje të lagura pemësh.
Ndiej j frymëmarrjen e drurit, të ikur pa shpirt.

In this night!

I found you in the night, where the pains soften,
Grief wanders in the withered dreams,
Silently, dragging steps of the yearn,
Whispering beneath eyelids, with a smile frozen…

Trying to murmur, warm words,
Unspoken, and never heard,
For fear I might fall asleep, and
You get frightened, while I ask myself;
Let them sleep, or bring them back?

But I hesitate, the dream of tears,
I keep it awake for you, on this night,
Waiting for the dawn to break,
The heart hides the long string of secrets,
While lying dream, my whole soul steals…

Në natë!

Të gjeta në natë, ku flenë dhimbjet.
Pikëllimi lodron ëndrrave të vyshkura.
Pa zhurmë i afroj hapat e mallit,
Të flas nën qerpik, me buzëqeshje të ngrirë.

Mundohem të belbezoj, fjalë dashurie.
Të pathëna, të padëgjuara ndonjëherë.
Kam frikë se fle edhe të trembin,
Veten pyes, ti le në gjumë apo ti sjell.

Nguroj, ëndrrën e lotit, zgjoj për ty sonte.
Në pritje të agimit, që vonë do të çelë.
Vargun e gjatë të mendimeve fsheh zemra…
Gënjeshtare ëndrra, gjithë shpirtin ma vjedh…

Fallen branch!

We met each other, at the awakening day.
The broken night fade far away,
The lost years were banished,
Bygone dream, being on fire…

Lost in autumn embrace, Mother Nature cries,
Our eyes wrapped, in a longing for a kiss,
For a moment,
All those years have come at last,
‘Cause we could never rouse them,
Enjoying life to the fullest!

This break up feels like rain in autumn,
I wanted to leave, but you’re back,
I picked up a branch, fallen in the park,
That day, we both cried in the rain…

How many fallen branches of love are there!

Dege e rrëzuar!

U takuam në zgjimin e ditës.
Nata e zemëruar iku larg,
Dëbuar vitet e humbura.
Ëndrra e dikurshme zjarr …

Tretur përqafim vjeshte, natyra qan.
Mbështjellë sytë tanë, me puthjen mall.
Një çast erdhën vitet, pastaj ikën prapë
Nuk mundëm ti zgjonim, ti bënim jetëgjatë.

Sa ngjante ndarja me këtë vjeshtë shi,
Kërkoja të ikja, por kthim ishe ti…
Ngrita një degë, të rrëzuar në park,
Të dyja mbi shi atë ditë qamë.

Sa degë të rrëzuara dashurie janë?…

Humanly!

A human soul, it never gets old,
When a life with love, it’s been lived,
Nothing ever dies in the heart,
When the flame burned with fire…

Njerëzore!

Asgjë nuk vjetërohet lehtë në shpirt,
Kur dashuri ka jetuar…
Asgjë s’mund të shuhet në zemër shpejt.
Kur flaka zjarrin ka përvëluar…

Sounds of the sea!

Deep-sea love, look for you by the shore,
Where the waves keep licking the sand,
And I feel your kisses upon my lips…

The waves play the symphony of departure,
On the bare feet of longing gaze,
Under the skin, crystal hands slide…

And naïve water droplets dance on body,
That spreads the sad sounds,
Deep in the blue sea of my soul…

Tinguj deti!

Dashuri e thellë deti, të kërkoj në breg,
Ku dallgët lëpijnë rërë,
E puthjet e tua i ndjej.

Luajnë simfoninë e ikjes,
Me hapa të shveshur mall.
Nën lëkurë rrëshkasin duar kristal.

Trupi veshur me stërkala uji,
Shpërndan tinguj të trishtë
Në detin e shpirtit blu.

Heart of a woman!

Often I think of you, afraid of losing me,
Even though you try to be there,
But I still feel more like that “time”,
Left aside, that neither cries nor smiles…

Cold touches, only their eyes speak,
The kisses fled, naked and clashed,
Hidden in the air, no longer can gather,
All them wither like a leaf, no longer green…

Often I think of you, as if you’re there,
Even without having you,
Just as a woman’s heart knows,
How and when to pry and pump,
Waiting for clenched hands to open up!

But even though they keep moving,
She remains the same…

Zemër gruaje!

Shpesh mendoj se kërkon të më humbësh.
Por dhe mundohesh, pranë të më jesh.
Jam bërë si ajo kohë e lënë mënjanë.
As nuk thërras, as më buzëqesh.

Të ftohta prekjet, me sy vetëm flasin.
Arratinë morën puthjet, shveshur, përplasur.
E fshihen ajrit më s’kuvendojnë.
Janë vyshkur si gjethe, as gjelbërojnë…

Shpesh mendoj, se të kam, por pa të patur.
Zemra e një gruaje di të përgjojë.
Ajo, pret akrepat e mbyllur të hapen.
Por dhe kur lëvizin ajo është njësoj…

In the night!

The night blew me, a windy kiss,
The lying dream hid it, in the isle of the sky,
I see dark clouds out my window…
Waiting in vain, those eager lips,
With the fake perfume of love,
Dancing to remove all traces of yesterdays,
Huddled inside my soul, soaked in tears…

Në natë!

Nata me solli një puthje prej ere.
Gënjeshtare ëndrra e futi në xhepin e qiellit.
Dritarja ime mbuluar me re të zeza.
Priste më kot, buzët e mjegulluara.
Unë me tymin gënjeshtar të dashurisë.
Vallzoja të humbja gjurmët e djeshme.
Të strukura në shpirtin e gjymtuar prej lotësh.

Translated from Albanian language into English Language
by Raimonda Moisiu