Lumo Kolleshi, Albania

Exclusive: Poetry from Europe and other Western locations: Curated by Agron Shele

Lumo Kolleshi, Albania

He is Born in Mertinj, Permet in January 6, 1961, he has finished his post-university studies for Language & Literature in some villages in the northern Albania, Puke. After the graduation he has worked as a teacher of Literature and by the time being he is a teacher in the high school “Sami Frasheri Permet”. He is the president of the writers’ Association, branch of Permet as well member of the Poetic Galaxy “ATUNIS”.  He is the director of the publishing house “Fjalët e Qiririt”. His poetries are published in several magazines like: “Zeri i Rinise”, “Zëri i Rinisë”, “Drita”, “Nëntori”, etc. He has published many volumes with poetries like: “Mars”, “The Owl confused”, “Return from the Dead” with which he has won the first price in the competition “PEGASI”, “Pouring of Thunders”, Resignation of The Tiger”, “Perspiration of The Poet”. Soon will appear is novel: “Time without license plate”. On March 2007 appeared the Volume with Essays and comments “From one author to the other”, assisting the teachers and the students of the high schools. Parts from his creative work have been published in foreign languages like Italian and Greek. He has participated in the international competition on poetry held in the city of Motola, Italy and the competition on fable held in Athens Greece, where he has been honored with the third price for fable.


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.

No comments :

Post a Comment

We welcome your comments related to the article and the topic being discussed. We expect the comments to be courteous, and respectful of the author and other commenters. Setu reserves the right to moderate, remove or reject comments that contain foul language, insult, hatred, personal information or indicate bad intention. The views expressed in comments reflect those of the commenter, not the official views of the Setu editorial board. प्रकाशित रचना से सम्बंधित शालीन सम्वाद का स्वागत है।