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| Agron Shele |
Agron Shele was born in October 7th, 1972, in the Village of Leskaj, city of Permet, Albania. Is the author of the following literary works: “The Steps of Clara” (Novel), “Beyond a grey curtain” (Novel), “Wrong Image” (Novel), “Innocent Passage” (Poetry), Whiste stones ( poetry) RIME SPARSE -Il suono di due voci poetiche del Mediterraneo (Poesie di Agron Shele e Claudia Piccinno), La mia Musa (“Libri di-versi in diversi libri” – Italy, 2020); Murmure d’ un autre monde (poetry), Klisania, Queen of the lake (Short story) and “Ese-I and Ese-II) ”. Mr. Shele is also the coordinator of International Anthologies: “Open Lane- 1,” “Pegasiada, Open Lane- 2, ATUNIS magazine ( Nr 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 )” and Atunis Galaxy Antholgy 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021, 2022. He is winner of some international literary prizes. Is a member of the Albanian Association of Writers, member of the World Writers Association, in Ohio, United States, Poetas del Mundo, WPS, Unione world Poetry and the President of the International Poetical Galaxy “Atunis”. He is published in many newspapers, national and international magazines, as well as published in many global anthologies: Almanac 2008, 2017; World Poetry Yearbook 2009, 2013, 2015, The Second Genesis -2013, Kibatek 2015-Italy, Metafora (Poland), Keleno- Greece, etc. Currently Resides in Belgium and continues to dedicate his time and efforts in publishing literary works with universal values.
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1- Image that is raised
The time marches ahead
It doesn’t know how to stop the hour hands
Nor how to change the destiny of the road it chose.
Long is this throb, like the sound of church bells
where I congregate.
Or simply a fragment of what vanishes in the air
And again, the same mirror appears.
A reverence,
A hand in the name of father, son and holy spirit
To the knights whose spilt blood is on each erected stone
And the saints pictured on cupola, hunting the devils.
They have fallen on earth nowadays
I see them celebrate
I see the apocalyptic flood
A sea raised from the abyss
And a Noah that pushes his ark
To give an end
To the hope weaved on earth
From the new avaricious that rebuild their lives
from a foundation of pain
To be demolished again into the Hades waiting for them.
The time flies ahead
With its head turned aback
Towards a remission to save the soul
From the sinful fleshly temptation
Outside the skin
Tattoos with disfigured faces
Idols up in flames
Anchors of ships on pirate crusades
With soutane waving in the wind
Prayers for disease;
Because nothing can be more than a human
Except for the image of the clay effortfully constructed
***
2- Wind-birds’ amnesia
The same scenery will appear again
Again, the leaves are going to yellow
In nature and soul
In the season that birds are ready to leave behind
Past dreams
Flying so far,
Disturbances lost to time – nostalgia
To the swan’s lake and imprinting fluttering wings onto the soul.
I don’t know why the view changed the colors today
It became yellow like Van Gough’s canvas
With the same pain
The same disfigurement
Torn shawl
Rain that penetrates bones
Rain that tears through acrylic glasses
And the steps speeding without destination
In the metro of the city
To the core of urban onrush
Breathing to the very first door
That bornes the light
To another world
With more parks that hold arrays of empty benches
Such long rows
Made to wait for the one that is going to feel the linden scent
And will appear as shape to the figuration of thoughts
It is autumn
The season of grand fall
The past time committed to memory
With lonely tree trunks
Exposed to the bones
And wind’s birds that have already left
***
3-
A radiating glow
To the moon hidden in the secret lakes
That withers in winter
As vapour from the trees
As vapour from the deer’s
Rummaging under the snow, the daily path
Blazing to life
And galloping into tomorrow
Freely cantering
To the meadow,
hoping that spring is blooming
***
Translated from Albanian into English by Merita Paparisto
Thank you very much Dr. Sunil ! I wish you more succes!
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