Poezi nga Enertin Dheskali

Enertin Dheskali   Poezi nga  Enertin Dheskali        -Përhumbje- -Përhumbje- Marrë nga vëllimi i dytë poetik, “Përtej ëndrrave dhe përjetësisë”, GlobusR 2008,  Copëza fletoresh më kanë mbetur në mendje, Mbushur me skica dhe poezi, E humbas vetveten sërish … Continue reading


  ARMIQTË MË TË RREZIKSHËM GJATË RËNIES SË PERANDORISË BIZANTINE (VII) nga:  Brahim  Avdyli “FEJA E SHQIPARIT ËSHTË SHQIPTARIA”                                       (VASO PASHË SHKODRANI) Që ta dimë se prej kur përdoret emri “shqiptar”, duhet të shërbehemi edhe me greqishten, ku disa mendimtarë … Continue reading





NADIA-CELLA POP, a famous Romanian poetess. The most internationally awarded author of contemporary Romania.

Born in Ariusd, March 13, 1948, now she lives in the city of Braşov.

Nationality: Romanian.

Philosophy Bachelor, graduated from ”Babeş-Bolyai University” 1973.

After graduation she started to work as a college teacher and several years as senior librarian and newspaper reporter (she continues to publish articles).

NADIA-CELLA POP has published her first poems in France, 1980 in the poetry journal ”Presence” from Bordeaux.

Many of her poems were published in over 60 titles of poetry journals and wide-distribution magazines edited in France, Italy, Belgium, Poland, Luxemburg, USA, Australia, Canada, India, China, Greece, Serbia, Brazil, Venezuela, Romania (over 300 copies).

Her works are also included in 25 anthologies edited in France, Italy, Luxemburg, Australia, India, Mongolia, Romania.

Many of NADIA’s poems were translated in English, French, Italian, Spanish, German, Magyar, Serbian, Polish, Chinese, Arabian, Russian, Portuguese, Greek , Bengali, Mongolian, Esperanto, Macedo-Romanian, Breton Armoricain, Albanian, Maltese.

NADIA-CELLA POP has received 165 prizes so far, for poetry, in many countries: France, Italy, Belgium, Germany, China, Australia, Luxemburg (only two prizes in Romania). Examples: Grand Prix du vers libre–Breteuil sur Iton, France, 1985; 3-ème Prix-Pomezia-Notizie, Italy, 1986; Medaille d’Or – Grand Prix du Forez – HALAF, France, 1990; Medaille de Bronze – A. I. de Lutece, Paris, France, 1992; Medaille d’Argent – A. I. de Lutece, Paris, France, 1995; Premi Speciali „Goccia di Luna” – La Spezia, Italy, 1996; Medaille Grand d’Or – Pleneuf-val-André, Bretagne, France, 2000; Premier Prix – Concours du Prix Athanor, Neris-les-Bains, France, 2002; Prix Européen de poésie POESIAS – Cercle Européen de Poésie Francophone, Royssy-en Brie, France, 2003; Die Goldmedaille und Grossen Internationalen Preis ”Friedrich Hölderlin”-”St. Lukas” Akademie, Germany, 2003; The Best Poet of the Year 2004, IPTRC, Chongqing, China; Menzione d’Onore – A. L. I. A. S. – Melbourne, Australia, 2007; Premio ”Catania e il suo Vulcano” – Accademia Ferdinandea, Catania, Italy, 2007 etc.


nad 1         nad 2



NADIA-CELLA POP has published so far five books of poetry: ”Gînduri de veghe” – 1997, ”Din Simfonia Vieţii” – 2001, ”Avalanche over Impossible” – 2006 (poems in English, translated by Dragoş Barbu), ”The Lordship of the Word” – first edition 2007 (multilingual, poems in fourteen languages), ”Shipwrecks Delayed” – 2010 (multilingual).

Based on her lyrics, five lieds composed by Ana Szilagyi were performed in symphonic festivals in Bucharest, Vienna, Braşov.

She is the member of twenty-three literary societies and academies in France, Italy, USA, Australia, Germany, Spain, Romania. Examples: Academie Internationale de Lutece, Paris, France; I. W. A.. Bluffton – Ohio, USA; Asociation Mundial des Escritores, Castrocalbon (Leon), Spain etc.

Her biography is listed in nine editions of WHO’S WHO (Cambridge, UK 1996, 1997 – Raleigh – USA 2000, 2001, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006).

NADIA-CELLA POP’s Academic Honors are: Professor Honoris Causa, International Academy of “St. Lukas” – 1497 – Bamberg, Germany; Academical Knight, International Academy of “Greci – Marino”, Vinzaglio, Italy.

In 1990, NADIA-CELLA POP has been invited to become “ HONORARY CITIZEN” of the city of Saint Etienne, France.







To find the gate

to the respiration of the energy rains

we open our eyes and close them again

across the compass rose,

to feel its spur and suffocation.

We stay in front of Time’s Cavern,

shaken by the passing into symbols

we desperately want to sip.

But Time’s involvement in life

it’s a worrisome process of a trinity.

Time will pass over us,

through us,

or besides us…

He will be the partner

of our victory or defeat…

He will mark barbarian catacombs,

or sanctified peaks…

Tender, the breeze of seekings

will lead us towards that gate,

as to an experiment

that will amaze every moment

of our endeavour and memory.







My eyes are snowing

the fir branches’ burden.

A disarranged colourless joy

leaves at the gate of my thoughts

a sparkle from the century’s faith,

hanged in the dry stamen

of the parting.

I respire, with every day

the wildest path of the slaves

from their watchmen, to their doom.

The seconds are crawling heavily

ahead of the path

which is measured but equal, however

with all the pages we can’t read.

Of that undiscovered

or just untamed letter

in the primer of happiness,

that asks now for a tribute:

the clusters of pain,

burnt in glances and flesh.

But I will respire, once again

the new air

of a fresh and green spring,

from groves and whispers,

in my own island of dew.








This night is lonely

in the landscape of frozen constellations.

I feel the glamour in my glances,

in front of the nothingness that absorbs me.

The obsession of the fright breaks out of myself

anonymous and dual words

which I can’t recognize.

The clear sky and distance’s innocence

make the sharp time of love to increase in me,

together with the presentiment of a reconciliation

which will make the second to rule eternity,

taking the chances of a wild fissure.

The song of wandering blood in being

is driving away the opacity of sadness

always wishing for the living flower

from the eyes of your soul.







FARAWAY” means the place

where your glances are caressing the stars,

your smile rocks the wind

and your thoughts are carving arabesques

of the imaginary kisses.

FARAWAY” means another place

wherein I blame the sun

for its rush to the sunset

before I can be smitten with your love.

FARAWAY” still means

our own meridian

corner with algae and cypress leaves,

where our shadows are confusing each other

in the supreme harmony.







The Nature’s miscellaneous accords

are replacing the space of genuine feelings

with the puzzle of the rocks and trees,

where the crickets’ violins

are playing a posthumous requiem

for all the victims of the wild

with the fragrance of death.

Waterfalls plunge down

into great spheres of abyss

caressing in a weird twitch

the legend of all the creatures,

flying insects and wild beasts, alike.

The unknown purple paths

are only offerings and punishments

for the children of a kingdom without a prison.

From the cosmic cradle of creation,

all the trumpets are announcing

the raise of an eternal sanctuary,

and the universal heart of the wilderness

is beating there inside.








If I plunge in the maze of history

I feel like the past, rebuilt towards tomorrow

Like in a ballad from my ancient homeland.

I am the first cell,

I am the next century,

I am the chase in jungle,

I am the Nature’s mastership,

I am Penelope’s cloth.

I am the Gordion knot,

I am the chain of slavery,

I am the promised land,

I am the core of all the simple things,

I am the essence of the abstract sense,

I am everything…








I’m lost in a stone forest.

There is dreadfully cold.

Something turns my sensations to immobility.

A being in usual forms I am no longer.

Suddenly, from the torrid beach adventure

Where I felt glamorous apparitions,

My image was moved among the rocks,

as a wanderer, disconcerted and cold.

I have nobody to answer my questions,

And I don’t know if I want to hear a thing.

I am here because I have to.

That’s enough for the wisdom’s hierarchy

Where the spots of eternity are bidden.

But I just want to remember

The burning kiss of the lucky star

That spreads joy over the bliss of sands

And the arabesque of the butterflies

Beyond my own existence

Which I was given with, for poetry and love.








Once, in the mist

Somebody stole our velvet dawn.

In our hands

The wonder ran,

Then the rain

And dismay.

We clenched our fists

In the crusaders’ harsh lesson,

With metallic reflections

Of incertitude.

And all these happened

When we were just about to hire

The cradle of the earthly happiness.

Oh, Lord…

How cruel can be a war

Solely with defeated.








The morning heralds and the guards of night

Remain on our foreheads as a salute

Or an ensign of the sand glass hour,

Coil and necklace for a weak garment.

Our body is a living curtain

Wherein confessions and prayers are hidden,

Or it is the ceremony of passions and perplexity

For the ones who learn to breathe the words,

Dressing them in the northern lights

Of love, faith and a grave melody

Dedicate to light-life, in mystery.

Whispering voices and fluttering wings

Pervade out of the dusty icon of the time

In the same humble trip of the day.

Again and again,

With the very same

Heralds and guards.








Through the noise of life you must go in silence,

to step from day towards night,

to learn how to forgive when by mistake you are

walking over dreams, buds and whispers.

The bliss of senses you must learn to tame

and how to guard your desire

when, like the knight errant, you’re trying to hunt

in a strange world, where stranger you are.

Let the world’s eyelid to hide what they want,

there is sun and shadow in its wounds,

cause people and waves are raising and die

as nomads of the lure, today and yesterday.








In the night when nothing happens

A bird of prey clasps me in wings of fire

Asking me to pay for smiles and tears.

For me, life’s holiday is over.

But I want just time to write some lines

For the ones who gave me everything,

And I gave them back carelessness and games,

For the ones who pushed the destiny to commit a sin

In a world of dream and emptiness,

For the ones I loved with no limits

But I hurt them unconsciously,

For the ones who led my steps on the paths of danger

And they offered a friendly hand for me,

For the ones who know me or not,

How I was, or how I wanted to be,

And for you,

And for everyone,

It’s so hard for me to say…







Don’t be troubled if I speak to you

We are strangers or maybe brothers.

I just don’t know…

But I think we have seen each other

In a common space

Of the violent searching for OURSELVES,

As a plain truth.

You must remember

We played

The warriors,

The lovers,

The wisemen.

What equivocal chances.

We’ve walked as the lunatics

Across the marshes and canyons,

On the cliffs and in the depths,

Always searching for a thing.

Was that available?

Or worth enough?







When you will look all around

After a long default,

The acanthus leaves

And the lotus flowers

Will be just strange scenery

For the feelings of the past.

And you wouldn’t believe…

You will deny the present days

With the hope for the return

To the naïve sensibility

Stolen by the past.

Too late, my friend…

The people

And the galaxies

Have their own way with no return,

And they have only halts

Of wrath and peace,

Reason and rave.







Games, dreams, flight,

all those were just a lost world

of songs of the earth

and hugs of the infinite.

When I should want to be alive

I was and I was not

the boldness and the cowardice.

I wanted the haven and slavery

of a defiled soul

of love and hate.

I sought the cactus thorns

in dainty orchids…

And then…

all was crushed down

to reality.







If I try to have a look to yesterday,

I can see the morning of a spring

With its real blaze of life,

With the shy rustle of the revival,

With the luxury of its plenty.

I find myself alone

Running in the dust of waste ground

About reefs of shells,

As in the life’s matinée

That seems to me now

As a magic square

Without any chance of reversion,

Except the right to remember

The pleasant nostalgia.







How sad and lonely can you look around

As through the thick net of wandering memories,

Which were shapeless, once upon a time,

Without amazing questions

Or words of hazy wisdom.

There were events that should to be,

With timid smiles and childish games,

And many, many dreams that could be true, someday

In a photo album

And delayed decisions.

Now you turn the years like a page

As in a smooth drunkeness of thorns and shivers,

The leaves are withered, the chestnut trees run wild,

And, by the laws of Nature

You live so as to die.








I’m back to the Planetrees Park,

my body is haunted by memories

of the lava flood that fell

off fingers clenched by the calls.

Where is the place you can have anything

and what is the moment you can ask anything,

for you, poor naïve child of the Earth?

The flowers have a look to the engaging sky

and the shadow embraces night,

when the stranger ones are near

and the riversides don’t split rebel waters.

Every blade of grass

sparks my longing

for a more bright new day,

when I shall chase for the words’ grail

with utterance like the balm,

during all my wanderings.

I want to keep you always the same,

a madrigal that could heave

the ship of every night and day

in divine spell.







On the seashore

I listen to the wounded seagull’s flight.

For him, the stairway to sky

Is no longer,

But only the depths of darkness,

The inexpiable anonymous tomb.

I mourn the white of his innocence,

Brutally killed.

On the seashore

The waves greet me

In the sound of the twin bells.

One for the call,

One for farewell,

And behold,

How painfully can I recognize now

The kiss of rain and death.







The solitude is crumbled by the wind

The time is stealing our joy

And banner, conqueror’s glory.

Is this fullness and achievement,

Or emptiness and mockery?

Is there a quest and trust

Or renunciation and retreat?

The answers, like the wanted pictures

Slip into the drops,

They are lost between fallen leaves,

Disappear in the future,

So as to return

In the strong gusts of truth.

Somewhere, beyond us

There was the solitude,

Crumbled by the wind,

Killed by the reality

That is always calling for us.








The unspoken words

are covered by a brutal sincerity.

They want to run

all the time

between songs and temples.

I am walking inside my thoughts

as a foreigner

and I feel how

the white of the night

ravages and strangles myself

and a barren wilderness

was left behind.

And I feel

my heart like a graveyard

and the eyes of my mind

are blind now…

So sad…

The soul cannot be redeemed.








There is a storm on the horizon and inside my heart

The Nature speaks by thunder and light.

The forests are all whispers

Of shadows that break to pieces

The copper belfry

Of the gloomy silence.

It’s time to forgive or to reward, maybe

With mundane attempts, to be or not to be.

When heavy cold raindrops

Are falling like the bullets

Down in a silent hollow

A crevasse of our times.

Paraguay’s Ministry of Public Service To Sign Agreement With Columbia University-Paraguay

By: Raquel Elizabeth Iglesias

SFP, logo

On Tuesday, June 25, the Paraguayan Ministry of Public Service, will sign a Memorandum of Cooperation with the Universidad Columbia del Paraguay.  The objective of this agreement is to develop academic programs, mutual technical and scientific research initiatives as well as the implementation of various training projects for public servants.  The Ministry of Public Service has been involved in a number of projects that address the salient challenges of public employees and rekindle the human resources management policy for the Paraguayan government.  Having a well-trained labor force will directly cause a positive impact in the national economy, social policies and overall cultural development.

Columbia University of Paraguay, through the signing of this bilateral agreement has shown an interest in mutually understanding and addressing the technical, cultural and academic endeavors that are greatly needed for Paraguay’s government employees of the 21st century. Columbia University has become a leader of Digital and E-learning education platforms in Paraguay, this agreement will bring together a myriad of skills and current training research results from the academic and government sectors, which are expected to improve and rekindle the current training programs for government officials in Paraguay.

The Ministry of Public Service (La Secretaría de la Función Pública – SFP), was created in 2000 through the presidential act of 1626, the leadership of SFP reports directly to the Presidency of the Republic.  National Legislation outlines this institution as the central government entity for the implementation of public policy and institutional development for all government agencies and ministries.  Among its primary attributes is the formulation of management policy and professional training for government employees and executives.  The Ministry of Public Service is dedicated towards implementing and drafting the Human resources policy and management of other officers focused in technical training of public employees for the Paraguayan government. Its mission is to formulate and guarantee the implementation of policies that assure high quality in public admiration services and professional development for all government employees, while focused in raising their bar of professionalism that would generate better services to communities.

SFP is a transparent institution, close to professional communities and on behalf of Paraguayan government is at the forefront in implementing cultural changes and current reforms in public management and human resources policy.

Raquel Elizabeth Iglesias, Director of the National Institute of Public Adminstration in Paraguay
(Instituto Nacional de la Administración Pública del Paraguay-INAPP)


Bolivia promotes the Plata basin in Public Communication

By: Peter Tase
After the meeting of June 19th, in Sucre, Bolivia, Members of the Working Group of Public Participation, Communication and Education (GTPPCyE, acronyms in Spanish), approved the Program Framework of the Plata Basin, which covers the territories of Bolivia, Paraguay, Brazil, Argentina and Uruguay.

According to Cesar Palacios, a key note speaker and the representative of Paraguayan government to the Sucre Conference, the objectives of this communication plan are “to establish a network of communicators in the PlataBasin that will generate an agenda in regional public media to be spread by the government and commercial mass media, a strategy that will promote the challenges encountered by the Plata basin and transmit information to key stakeholders and organizations of the Plata Basin. This program fosters the collection of information; target audiences promote regional activities and improve communication strategies.”

The members of this group will inform the public on the principal projects and objectives organized to improve the well management of South American hydro resources in relation to global warming and other variable changes in the ecosystem.  This project will share information with the public opinion and raise awareness in public on the Plata Basin and challenges waiting to be encountered, considering the current impacts of climate change and thereby generating opportunities for the region’s sustainable development. The La Plata Basin covers an area of 3.5 million square km. and a population of approximately 130 million, comprising the territories of five South American countries, Argentina, Bolivia, Brazil, Paraguay and Uruguay.

“Terrible Songs”: A Volume Of Poetry By Lulzim Tafa – Book Review




“Terrible Songs”: A Volume Of Poetry By Lulzim  Tafa- Book Review




“Terrible Songs”: A Volume Of Poetry By Lulzim Tafa, Abbreviated Biography


lulezim tafa

                     Lulzim Tafa

Lulzim Tafa was born near Pristina, capital of Kosovo, on February 2, 1970. He is one of the renowned poets of the turbulent times of 1990 in Kosovo, a country that was constantly experiencing ethnic cleansing and mass killings of its people by the Serbian war machine.

After his elementary and high school education in his native village of Lipian, Tafa attended the School of Law in the University of Pristina and became an attorney four years later, in early 1992. Mr. Tafa has pursued graduate studies in the University of Sarajevo and received his Ph.D. degree in Law.

Apart from his scholarly works in the field of law and social sciences, Lulzim Tafa, has written many volumes in Albanian Literature.

Until now he has published a number of poetry books: “Blood won’t become Water” Rilindja Press, Prishtina, 1993; “Sadness Metaphor” Rilindja Press, Prishtina, 1997; “Planet of Babylon” Stage poetry, Rilindja Press, Prishtina, 1999; “I Still Have Two Words” Faik Konica Press, Prishtina, 2011; “Work for Devil” Selected poetry, Gjordan-Studio, Sarajevo, 2011; “Dream Exhibition” Amanda Edit, Bucharest, 2012.

Tafa’s literary works are translated into several languages, and he is the recipient of several literary awards and is included in many anthologies of poetry. Lulzim Tafa is active in many Human Rights projects. He writes poems, prose and conducts studies in literary criticism and journalism. He is full professor in several universities in Kosovo and abroad. Currently he is the Rector of the AAB University in Pristina. Kosovo.

Poetic Images of “Terrible Songs”

The Republic of Kosovo is the youngest independent nation of Europe, but surprisingly it is one of the ancient cradles equipped with a wealth of poetry and literature in the Old Continent. Kosovo’s lasting legacy in poetry, literary criticism and prose is represented with a high level of professionalism in all books of poetry that are written in the last two decades by Lulzim Tafa, beginning with his first poetry book, “Blood Won’t Become Water” and continued by many other literary projects that have helped the author master the use of words, metaphor and style, as well as allegory. Tafa’s artistic use of all these meticulous elements have made him a unique voice of poetry in Europe and beyond.

A few days before the publication of “Terrible Songs,” I had the privilege to read and appreciate Mr. Tafa’s verses and observe closely his passion about poetry, the encompassing of nature in most of his verses and above all the first hand experience of the suffering and longing that the author himself had endured in an violent conflict time in Kosovo that lasted many years and reached a fragile peace only after the NATO intervention of 1998-1999.

Lulzim Tafa’s verses are expressed and influenced by the tumultuous environment – a region engulfed in decades long ethnic cleansing campaigns conducted by Serbian forces – created in the Balkans in the 1990, even though occasionally the author has intertwined his sentimental feelings in many sad verses and refers to the Sun as a source of punishment, hope and salvation.

In verses of “You Slept Under the Moon”and “Ancient City,” Tafa places the presence of the Sun in an admirable and punishable context:

Don’t you pity me?
Let the sun hurt your eyes?
You slept under the shadow of the moon
And I stayed nil while hiding you in the song
Why are you crying?…

…Blows a slight icy breeze
The ancient city of the wind oscillates his eyelids
I am no fool to want you
Ancient city of first love.

In these verses the reader is able to deduce Tafa’s figurative language that includes in a single canvas a myriad of colors, expressions, aspirations and longing. All these details have typical colors that are represented through orbital objects, such as the Sun, the Moon, and inner world fantasy of dreams, oscillations of eye lids and feelings of love.

A few minutes after reading Tafa’s verses, they made me think of Edgar Allan Poe who considered ”poetry as the rhythmical creation of beauty in words,” this is perhaps exactly what every reader will experience while reading Tafa’s poetry.

As I was reaching the last poems of his volume, Tafa’s structure of verses, rhyme, context and pathos continued to rise, even though the topic had slightly changed and was focused more on the war of Kosovo and the tragic loss of human life.

In “Death Predict,” Lulzim Tafa, describes the chaotic conditions during the Kosovo War of Independence:

I will be killed in this war
For each button
Of the jacket
I’ll take a bullet
And every drop of blood
Button will become
In the shirts and jackets of my
Soldiers and captains…”

The aforementioned poem starts with a tragic prediction, which unfortunately is in the minds of every citizen who hears night and day the frightening rifle shootings in the nearby hills covered by trenches and well trained KLA soldiers fighting Serbian well trained forces. Another component that is illustrated in Tafa’s verses is the overall war environment in Kosovo’s cities.

It is heartbreaking although the situation is vividly described, how Lulzim Tafa’s fellow countrymen were affected by war, famine destruction and almost all of them turned into landless refugees, empty handed human beings carrying only their mere clothes. The tragic consequences of War, are deeply rooted on Tafa’s verses and as a result they make all of us sympathizes with him and many other war refugees who are brokenheartedly connected to the following verses in the “War Atmosphere” and “The Patriots”:

In Kosova those days
Became more expensive
Only life’s
Had fallen
We had in abundance

I love more
The country,
He kisses its land then,
He curses himself on stones and slabs…”

Through these verses Lulzim Tafa has introduced the global reader with a world region that has produced a history of barbaric conflicts, bloodshed and innocent victims. It is certain that Tafa’s soul is with his countrymen, he acknowledges the endless pain of violence and is hopeful on a better future for his homeland.

Tafa’s native soil is depicted in poetry through intense emotions that turn into spoken and articulated thoughts, which later turn into radiant words. According to Plato ”Poetry is nearer to vital truth than history,” this great philosopher has given us the best definition of a genuine poetry that resembles Tafa’s writing style, substance and coherence.

Avni Azizi: an Albanian life in literature and politics

Avni Azizi: an Albanian life in literature and politics MONDAY, APRIL 29, 2013 BY PETER M. TASE http://www.speroforum.com/a/ECCEHSKASY3/73988-Avni-Azizi-an-Albanian-life-in-literature-and-politics#.UZn3qOf0HwM Avni Azizi: his life and writing Avni Azizi was born on September 6, 1970 in the village of Terpeze in Viti, a city in Albania. He enrolled in … Continue reading

Carla Ascarza

               Carla Ascarza Paraguay’s Premier Woman Artist   In December 2012, I was introduced in Asuncion to the paintings and murals of Carla Ascarza, a distinguished woman painter and visual artist; she is only … Continue reading

Kurt F. Svatek

        Kurt F. Svatek Born 1949 in Vienna, he lived and worked nearly for four decades in southern Lower Austria, and then he returned with his family to his native town. After receiving his high school degree … Continue reading


kolec traboini

Belgjike 2012

Antologjia e poezisë shqiptare botuar në Belgjikë në frengjisht 2012, nga “Le Taillis Pré”, përgatitur nga Vasil Çapeqi dhe Francis Chenot përfshin 80 poetë nga të gjitha trevat shqiptare dhe Diaspora në mes të cilëve dhe Kolec Traboini i përfaqësuar me dy poezi:


Kolec Traboini, cinéaste, journaliste et auteur de livres de poésie, prose et essais, est né à Shkodër (Albanie) au début des années cinquante. En 1991, il s’installe à Athènes comme immigrant. Kolec Traboini appartient à la race des poètes qui ont laissé, sur les murs des civilisations, des paroles de témoignage et de réflexion. Un remède peut-être, contre l’amnésie des humains… Depuis 1995, Kolec Traboini vit et travaille à Boston aux Etats-Unis.


Occupé à la rédaction des poésies
pour le journal « Egnatia »*
Des éclairs de chevaux sanglants
perçaient le ciel
allant vers la mer pour laver les blessures
sur leurs talons
clignotent braises de crépuscules
les enfants crient comme mouettes
et dans les seins des jeunes mariées
l’attente brûle
les mères mordent les nuages
en attente de caravanes sans retour
Athènes, An zéro… de l’oubli !

*« Egnatia », journal en langue albanaise, crée à Athènes en 1993 par Kolec Traboini. La via Egnatia ou voie égnatienne est une voie romaine qui traversait les Balkans, en reprenant un ancien tracé de voie macédonienne, construite aux alentours de -146. Partant du port de Dyrrachuium (Durrës) avec une branche venant du port d’Apollonie d’Illyrie, elle traversait Pella, Thessalonique, Amphipolis, Philippes et se terminait à Byzance. Débouchant de la voie maritime entre Bari et Durrës, elle prolongeait l’itinéraire de la voie Appienne jusqu’au passage entre l’Europe et l’Asie.


Tombe la pluie fine, triste sur le cimetière de Kaisariani
sur les croix blanches
et la porcelaine des visages
des Grecs morts…
Pleurent les épines des pins
et les bougies crépitent en silence
en rendant leur dernier souffle.
Doucement tout se perd
sous le pouvoir des eaux célestes
avec moi aussi qui érige des murs d’enceinte
pour cette demeure écrasée par la blancheur du marbre
et sur eux, la pluie
que la pluie…
tombe pluie fine sur les visages hellènes d’autrefois
tombe sur mon visage
seul vivant dans ce monde mort
mes yeux vers le ciel
en priant le dieu
que j’aie moi aussi comme les Hellènes
une tombe sur ma propre terre.
Autrement mon esprit surgira de la tombe
avec un désir démoniaque
de se battre contre les vents et les orages
sans jamais trouver la paix en sol étranger
sans trouver l’éternité au ciel.
Tombe la pluie fine, triste sur le cimetière de Kaisariani
fine, triste, douce
comme les larmes des mères pour les immigrés

* Kaisarianiest une banlieue à l’est d’Athènes


Kolec Traboini, kineast, gazetar dhe autor i librave në poezi, prozë dhe ese, u lind në Shkodër (Shqipëri) në fillim të viteve ’50. Në vitin 1991, ai shkoi në Athinë si emigrant. Kolec Traboini i përket racës së poetëve të cilët lënë në muret e fjalëve civilizuese dëshmi dhe reflektim. Një medikament kundër amnezisë njerëzore …Që nga viti 1995, Kolec Traboini jeton dhe punon në Boston, SHBA.


Duke redaktuar poezitë e emigrantëve
për gazetën “Egnatia” *

Vetëtima kuajsh të përgjakur
çanin qiellin
shkonin të lanin plagët në det

prush muzgjesh nxirrnin

fëmijet klithnin si pulëbardha
e nuset gjoksndezura prisnin

kafshonin retë
duke pritur karvanet e kurrmoskthimit

Athinë, Viti 0 …i harrimit!

* “Egnatia”, gazeta në gjuhën shqipe, e krijuar në vitin 1993 në Athinë nga Kolec Traboini. Via Egnatia rrugë ose Egnatian është një rrugë romake e cila kaloi Ballkanin, duke përsëritur një plan urbanistik të lashtë maqedonas udhë, e ndërtuar rreth vitit 146. Nga porti i Dyrrachuium (Durrës) me një degë nga porti i Apollonisë në Iliri dega tjetër, ajo kaloi në Pella, Selanik, Amphipolis, Filipi dhe përfundoi në Bizant. Ndarë nga nga deti në mes Barit dhe Durrësit, ajo vazhdoi rrugën Appia si kalim mes Evropës dhe Azisë.


Bie shi i imët, i trishtë në Varrezat e Kesiarianisë
mbi kryqet e bardhë
e porcelanin e fytyrave
të grekërve të vdekur…
Lotojnë halat e pishave
ndërsa qirinjtë regëtijnë në heshtje
duke dhënë frymën e fundit.

Ngadalë çdo gjë humbet
nën pushtetin e ujrave qiellorë
bashkë me mua që ndërtoj muret rrethuese
brenda të cilave zotëron bardhësia e mermerit
e mbi ta shiu
vetëm shiu…

Rigon shi i imët mbi fytyrat e elenëve të dikurshëm
bie mbi fytyrën time
i vetmi i gjallë në këtë botë të vdekur
me fytyrë nga qielli
duke ju lutur Zotit
të kem dhe unë si helenët
një varr në tokën time

ndryshe shpirti im do të ngrihet nga varri
me një dëshirë demoniake
për t’u përleshur me erërat e shtërgatën
pa gjetur kurrë prehje në dhé të huaj
pa gjetur amëshim nga qielli.

Bie shi i imët, i trishtë në Varrezat e Kesiarianisë
i imët, i heshtur, i trishtë, i butë
si lotët e nënave për mërgimtarët e humbur.

Athinë 20 . 4 . 1992




Çmimet Letrare

nga : Mentor Thaqi
foto 1
                TRADITË NË VAZHDIM

Të Shtunën, me 01 qershor, në Ennepetal të Gjermanisë, u mbajt Takimi Letrar Tradicional në nderim dhe përkujtim të Kolosit të letrave shqipe me të njëjtin emër “AZEM SHKRELI” në bashkorganizim të Familjes Shkreli dhe Lidhjes së Shkrimtarëve, Artistëve e Krijuesve Shqiptarë në Gjermani. Me këtë rast u dhanë shpërblimet vjetore për tre vendet e para, për librat më të vlerësuar nga krijuesit mërgimtarë gjatë vitit paraprak. Këtë eveniment kulturor e pëcolli edhe Radio Televizioni i Kosovës.

Salla e bukur, e kompletuar teknikisht me hapsira të mjaftueshme për zhvillim aktiviteti dedikues poetik-kulturor, pjesëmarrje e shkelqyer artbërësish dhe artdashësish që edhe mbi njëmijë kilometra (mbi 1000 km) udhëtim një drejtimësh bënë që ti japin shkëlqim artistik dhe kombëtar kësaj ngjarjeje madhështore.
Se e duan nderimin për Njerëzit e Kombit dhe Kulturës Kombëtare, mërgimtarët tonë, artbërës dhe artdashës e kanë dëshmuar dhe po e dëshmojnë çdo ditë me pjesëmarrjen dhe kontributin e tyre në shumë forma.
Madhështinë Takimit ia shtoi pjesëmarrja e krijuesve jashtë shtetit Gjerman, si nga Finlanda, poetja e nderuar Silvana Berki, nga Zvicra, poeti i nderuar Brahim Avdyli, nga Ferizaji krijuesja e nderuar Qëndresë Halili, Klubi Letrar “Tafil Kelmendi” nga Malisheva me disa poet përfaqësues, Shoqata e Shkrimtarëve “Naim Frashëri” nga Fushë Kosova, një kolorit dhe shpirtë të vërtetë gjallërie kulturore i dhanë nxënësit e shkollës shqipe në Viersen me mësimdhënësin e shkelqyer Adem Shala që me këngën e bukur dhe vallet burimore i bënë pjesë vallëzimi të pranishmët!
Takimi, një formë bashkëbisedimi në moderim artistik përmes treshes së poetëve: Mentor Thaqi, Gonxhe Letmi-Begisholli dhe Muhamet Luma, filloi me këngën nga vargjet e Azem Shkrelit “KANGË E TURPSHME” interpretuar nga Aurela Gaçe, pasuar nga një material videor nga veprimtaria e Azem Shkrelit krijues dhe veprimtar i Kombit! Fjala përshëndetëse e Kryetarit të LSHAKSH z. Hasan Qyqalla e praprirë nga një recitim të poezisë “Dritiramb” nga Azem Shkreli, një shpalosje tekstuale nga jeta dhe vepra e poetit Shkreli nga një mik dhe bashkkrijues z. Martin Çuni (Kryetar Nderi i LSHAKSH), interpretime të këndëshme artistike-muzikore nga artistët tonë të nderuar, Driton Gashi (me kitarë) dhe Agim Gashi (me sharki), recitimi i bukur nga nxënësja bukuroshe të vjershës “Lule Bozhuri” simpatikës Anisa Mulolli dhe lexime e recitime të vargjeve nga poete dhe poetë të nderuar: Qëndresë Halili, Marigona Bellaina, Çerkin Bytyqi, Silvana Berki, Gonxhe Letmi-Begisholli, Shaban Cakolli, Sadri Gashi, Sevëme Fetiqi, Fran Tanushi, Muhamet Luma, Izet Shala, Agim Gashi, Mehdi Krasniqi, Selajdin Gashi dhe Mentor Thaqi.
Takimi, një vazhdimësi tradicionale, çdo vit shpërblen tre vendet e para për librat më të mirë të vitit të botuara nga krijues mërgimtarë. Këtë vit, vlerësuar nga një juri treshe e pavarur në përbërje nga Avni Alija, Lekë Preçi dhe Arsim Halili, u shpërblyen:
Znj. Silvana Berki me vëllimin Poetik “PRELUDE”, nga Finlanda Shpërblimi i parë
Znj. Sevëme Fetiqi nga Gjermania me vëllimin Poetik “Imazhe të ringjallura
 Z. Mëhill Velaj nga Amerika me përmbledhjen me tregime “Unë e solla Doruntinën” shpërblimi i dytë
cmimi 3
z. Brahim Avdyli nga Zvicra me vëllimin Poetik ” Qielli i paprekur” që u nderua me shpërblimin e tretë,
ndërkaq këtë vit për herë tëparë u nda edhe “ÇMIMI I JURISË” që u vlerësua Albumi Poetik “Një shekull dritë” (100 poezi nga 100 Poet nga mërgata), përgatitur Z. Hasan Qyqalla, gjersa Shpërblimet i ndau i biri i Poetit, Valon Shkreli!
Si çdo herë edhe kësaj radhe nuk munguan as mirënjohjet simbolike në nderim të personaliteteve të artit, kulturës dhe atdhetarisë. Me Mirënjohje u nderuan: Rapsodi e veprimtari ynë i njohur Z. Agim Gashi, Shkolla Shqipe në (Viersen) Firzen me arsimtarin e zellshëm Z. Adem Shala, Shkrimtarja e re Z. Qëndresë Halili, Klubi i Shkrimtarëve “Tafil Kelmendi” nga Malisheva, Shoqata Humanitare “Lichtblick” nga (Würselen) Vyrzelen me kryetar Z. Ismet Mehmetaj. U ndanë gjithashtu nga z. Avdi Fejza në emër të Shoqatës Atdhetare “Kosova” në Olsberg dy Mirënjohje, z. Martin Çuni për veprimtari jetësore dhe LSHAKSH në Gjermani për aktivitet kulturor kombëtar!

Dr. Ram Krishna Singh

    Dr.  Ram Krishna Singh Dr. Ram Krishna Singh Professor (HAG) Dept of Humanities & Social Sciences Indian School of Mines Dhanbad-826 004 India Profile: Have been teaching English language skills to UG/PG students in a leading technical university … Continue reading

Poems by Adolf P. Shvedchikov (Russian, English and Italian)

 Adolf shvjedçikov

Adolf P. Shvedchikov, PhD, LittD (RUSSIA)

Adolf P. Shvedchikov, Ph.D.,Litt.D.(RUSSIA)

International Poet of Merit

Traduzione di Marco Scalabrino (ITALIA)



Leggendo il giornale del mattino

Si scorpe ogni volta quanto dolore

Percorre il mondo:

Sempre nuove esplosioni di bombe ovunque.

Il cocchiere è stanco

Ma il carro della guerra riecheggia

E la distruzione è in ogni dove.

Per centinaia e centinaia di anni

Il mondo è stato pieno di lacrime.

E l’amore eterno?

Si è dissolto!

Il sangue è dappertutto.


Reading a morning newspaper,

You find again how sadness

Is roaming around the world.

There are again bomb explosion everywhere.

The coachman is tired

But the chariot of war is rumbling

And ruinig everything.

For hundreds and hundreds of years

The world has been full of tears.

And what about eternal love?

It has disappeared!

Blood is everywhere…



Откроешь поутру газету,

Опять печаль бредёт по свету.

И снова без конца и края

Мир мрачно бомбами играет.

Уже устал от войн возница,

Но громыхает колесница,

Всё разбивая в пух и прах,

Столетиями мир в слезах.

А что ж нетленная любовь?

Покончено с ней! Всюду кровь…





Vorrei affrancarmi per sempre

Dalle forti mani del tempo

E dire: adieu, treni,

Io odio il vostro ritmico rumore!

Vorrei disporre del futuro

A mio piacimento, ricapitolare la mia vita

Per pianificare e spendere al meglio

Ciò che me ne resta.

Poi, voltandomi indietro, dire:

Hey, tempo,

Io so che tu sei cocciuto

E non conosci ostacoli,

Ma non mi prenderai, vivo,

Nella tua rete!


I would like to escape always

From the strong hands of time

And to say: adieu, trains,

I hate your rhythmical clatter!

I would like to look into my future

By my own will, to sum up my life

And to analyze in a better way

How to spend the rest of my life.

Then, looking backwards, to say:

Hey, time!

I know that you are stubborn,

There are no barriers for you.

But you’ll never catch me alive









Вырваться хотелось всегда

Мне из времени цепких рук,

Чтоб сказать: adieu, поезда,

Ненавижу ваш мерный стук!

Чтоб по собственной воле мог

В неизвестность я заглянуть,

Подвести своей жизни итог,

Обозначить на карте свой путь.

Не спеша чтоб потом разложить

Мне судьбой отведённые дни

И подумать, как лучше прожить,

Чтоб тоской не томили они.

Оглянуться чтоб смог я назад:

Где там, мрачное время, ползёшь?

Для тебя нет, конечно, преград,

Но живым ты меня не возьмёшь!






Dio ci ha dato in regalo un pezzo di eternità.

Sta a noi come usarlo.

Possiamo librarci tra le nuvole gonfie di sole

Se abbiamo abbastanza forze per volare alti nel cielo.

Dio ci ha dato in regalo un pezzo di eternità.

Vogli questo dono a vantaggio della quotidianità.

Concerva il diamante della tua anima

Per illuminare il tuo cammino.

Dio ci ha dato in regalo un pezzo di eternità.

Usa con coscienza questo dono

Per le parole buone e le azioni utili,

E la discendenza, riconoscente, si ricorderà di te.




God gave us as a gift a piece of eternity.

We may use it as we like.

We may soar among sunfilled clouds

If you have enough forces to fly up into the sky.

God gave us as a gift a piece of eternity.

Transform this gift for a benefit of everyday life.

Save the diamond of your soul

To illuminate your path.

God gave us as a gift a piece of eternity.

Deliberately use this gift

For the good words and useful deeds,

And the thankful offsprings will remember you.




Кусочек вечности Господь нам подарил,

Распорядитесь ею, как хотите,

Быть может, в облака ещё взлетите,

Когда на то земных вам хватит сил.

Кусочек вечности Господь нам подарил,

Его в дела благие обратите,

Алмаз души, как око, берегите,

Чтоб светом чистым он всегда светил.

Кусочек вечности Господь нам подарил,

Растратить попусту его вы не спешите,

Его в слова, в поступки обратите,

Чтобы потомок вас благодарил.


©AdolfP. Shvedchikov, Ph.D.,Litt.D.(RUSSIA)

International Poet of Merit

Traduzione di Marco Scalabrino (ITALIA)



Il mio umore cambia come le fasi della luna:

Prima sale, poi scende.

La mia anima avvilupata in una camicia da notte

È ancora viva, benché perplessa.

Tutto è falso, la parola e la frase,

Mi sento come un uccello in gabbia,

Ci sono termini sbiaditi sulla pagina.

E non puoi sottrarti al terribile intrico!

Non c’è luce, neanche un bagliore,

Nessuna ispirazione, tu sei senza fiato,

La vita è nel passato e tu prossimo alla morte,

Niente più speranza, niente più sogni.

E all’improvviso ecco batti le tue ali di fuoco,

Apri il tuo inviolabile tesoro

E scagli nell’aria la tua spada magica.

Nuovamente la tua scintillante arpa canta!



My mood is changing like the moons phases.

Once it lifts up, then it falls down.

My soul enveloped in a nightgown

Is still alive, yet it amazes.

But all is false: the word and phrase.

I feel sometimes like a bird in a cage:

There are pale words upon the page,

You cannot escape from the terrible maze!

There is no light, not even a gleam,

No inspiration, youre out of breath,

Life is in the past, youre near death,

There is no hope, there is no dream.

But suddenly you flap your fiery wings,

And open the inviolable hoard,

You hurl into the air your magic sword,

Again your sparkling lyre sings!




Моё настроение – фазы луны:

То серп, то полнолуние снова,

Ищу единственное слово,

Так чувства все обострены!

Но фальшь опять в словах и фразах…

Как птица в клетке я сижу

И выхода не нахожу

Из лабиринта… Нет, ни разу

Во тьме ночной не брезжил свет,

Ушло, пропало вдохновенье,

О, эти горькие мгновенья,

Когда надежды больше нет!

Но кризис тяжкий миновал,

Взмахнувши белыми крылами,

Вознёсся я над облаками,

Вновь голос лиры зазвучал!






C’è un regno dove il mio angelo guardiano domina,

Dove ho costruito una casa bella e ordinata

Senza alcuna volgarità e sporcizia.

Quel regno è molto lontano dalle fertili pianure.

Mi piace questa sicura dimora per la mia anima,

Con un silenzio di pace, con una pioggia fina e fitta.

Senza tensione, senza nervi tesi,

I pensieri possono volteggiare liberamente.

Quando la morte arriverà e la carne imputridirà,

La mia anima immortale continuerà a vagabondare

Attorno una casa di cristallo trasparente senza fine.

E non importa cosa accadrà delle mie ceneri!



There is a kingdom where my guardian-angel reigns.

Where I built a well-ordered home

Without vulgar gossip and dirty foam,

That kingdom is too far from fertile plains.

I like this secure abode for my soul

With a peaceful silence, with a drizzling rain…

Without tension, without nervous strain

Your pensive thoughts may unimpededly stroll.

When death comes and it decays the flesh,

My deathless soul will continually roam

Around an endless crystal-clear home,

And it does not matter what happens with my ash!




Ангел-хранитель в том королевстве правит,

Там выстроен кристально чистый дом,

Ни сплетен, ни злословия нет в нём,

Условностей или нелепых правил.

Убежище то для моей души,

Там тишина и светлый дождик льётся,

Нет сбоя нервного, никто там не трясётся,

Мысль растекается в неведомой глуши…

Когда же смерть меня и там найдёт,

Отправится в могилу бренно тело.

До этого мне, право, нету дела,

Душа моя бессмертная живёт!




©Adolf P. Shvedchikov, PhD, Litt.D.(RUSSIA)

International Poet of Merit

Traduzione di Franco Coppola(AUSTRALIA)



Giorno dopo giorno senza sostegno

La natura compie un lavoro scrupoloso.

Uno vien rubato e un altro gode

Dal tempo crudele, l´uccello rapace.

Per essere protetto tu devi pagare

E per la tua vita il prezzo `e alto

In ogni istante un coltello assassino

Può presentarsi davanti il cammino

Quando arriva quel giorno funesto.

Ti smarrirai dal gregge maestro

Quando il vascello della tua vita

Sconquassata sbatte sulla roccia

Non sparger pianto, prega soltanto.



Oh mio pensiero irrequieto e provocante,

Tu che vaghi prudente fra contrasti,

Tu che fiducia non hai e sei dubbioso

Ci soffri quando tutto viene al nulla.

Qualche volta, dici a te stesso; che dovresti

Considerare il tutto e di, revisionare,

A volte scopri una sorpresa inaspettata,

E sorridente tu commenti: buona, questa battuta

Ma quando per sfortuna sei incastrato

Da un´ insidiosa trappola celata

Insisti per trovarne via d´uscita,

Perchè tu, pensiero mio maestro

Vuoi esser vincitor!





©Adolf P. Shvedchikov, PhD, Litt.D.(RUSSIA)

International Poet of Merit

Traduzione di  Gav.  Giovanna Li Volti Guzzardi (AUSTRALIA)

Accademia Letteraria Italo-Australiana Scrittori
29 Ridley Avenue



Quando la tua voce si dilegua

Il suono vibra ancora

E nella tua memoria, si modula e martella.

Non posso ritornare indietro nel passato

Questo è il mio fato…

Il mio animo, come un cielo invernale

Non ha colore…

Nell´aria gelida sento la voce tua gentile

Spesso la vita `e crudele,

Ma non ho altra scelta

Di spiegare le mie ali appesantite

E ancor volare.






Come ultima foglia d’autunno triste
Cado ai tuoi piedi in silenzio.
Non mi interessa l’opinione pubblica,
Non mi interessano i pettegolezzi salaci,
Son stato fatto da Dio, da un altro tipo di argilla,
Odio scandalo in sé e per sé.
Ricordo la primavera in fiore,
E continuo quei momenti miracolosi
Nella mia memoria quando guardo
Negli occhi lussuriosi!
So che lo stelo della foglia
Non è perpetua,
E quel momento è grave!
Tutta la mia vita ho sognato di incontrarti di nuovo,
Ed ora è possibile premere
Nel tuo cuore la foglia gialla …




Un fiore cremisi si rifugiò
Vicino al cancello in una recinzione.
Il suo fragile germoglio
È bagnato dopo la pioggia fredda.
Non riesco a trovare le parole adatte per descrivere
Come provare di vedere la luce del giorno
Tra il vento agghiacciante!
E’ possibile che un bel giorno
Sarà in boccio,
E’ possibile che un passante lo troverà,
Rannicchiarlo e metterlo in una corona di fiori?
Ma la speranza è vana, non è possibile vedere l’alba!
Un fiore cremisi si rifugiò
Vicino al cancello in una recinzione.
Il suo fragile germoglio è rotto,
E i petali appassiti







Un ruscello scorre e si mischia conil fiume

E i grandi fiumi si misciano co l´Oceano.

Questo era nel passato e questo sar`a per sempre.

Perche´ noi siamo soli nella nostra esistenza insieme,

Questo non `e strano?

Il cielo blu bacia le cime delle montagne

E la schiuma delle onde nell´Oceano abbraccia tutto.

Loro sono libere di amare,

Libere di baciare.

Perche´ tu non mi baci, mia amata non mi tocchi?


La vita è meravigliosa!

E piacevole passeggiare in giardino

Mentre tengo la tua mano in silenzio

È respirare la primavera in anticipo.

Non desidero nient´altro,

Lascia che il sole luccichi!

Ti amerò per sempre,

Ti terrò come una perla,

Sei la mia piu alta ricompensa.

La vitaè meravigliosa!



Le ninfee sono ovunque disperse.

Le libellule sbattono le loro ali,

Le formiche corrono intorno frettolosamente

Lungo un sentiero dimenticato.

Ogni lama d´erba è avvizzita dal calore.

Le nostre parole non possono descrivere

Come affascinante e la goccia

D´acqua sotto un raggio di sole,

Come dolche è la vertigine nella mente!

Il calabrone scende sopra il polline giallo

Di un fiore mezzo addormentato.

Il sogno di mezzogiorno nell´estate è soddisfatto…

Il mondo non ha fretta.

Le correnti del tempo si rallentano…



Ah, quanto èmeraviglioso il mio sognare!

Come pazzamente mi piace.

Lascio questo sogno che continui.

È possibile innamorarsi come prima?

Da quale tribù sei arrivata

Per far scoppiare il mio gemito amoroso,

E lottare contro la roccia come l´acqua di fonte?

Ah, che stupore è il mio sognare!

Io decidero ardentemente congiungermi con te

Per accendere la tua passione!

Sono caduto innamorato come in gioventu!

Ah, come è delizioso in mio sognare!

Quanto tempo questi flussi d´argento correranno,

Quanto tempo queste foglie dorate balleranno,

Quanto tempo questi fulmine d´amore estivo arderanno?

Ah, che sequestro allegro è il mio sognare…



Io penso che quell´amore ha ali speciali.

A volte non puoi vedere

Il vibrare di queste ali

Ma queste ali invisibili spostano le montagne!

L´Amore ha una visione speciale di gentilezza.

Aiuta la gente a credere nelle loro proprie forze,

Esso dà loro ancora la speranza!

Lascia che questo amore eterno

Porti le nuove ali a tutti!


Rivulets are running and mingle with the river,

And the large rivers mingle with the ocean.

That was in the past, and that will be forever.

Why are we so alone being together, isn’t is strange?

The blue sky kisses the tops of the mountains,

And foamy waves in the ocean embrace each other.

There is the freedom of love, the freedom of kiss.

Why don’t you kiss me, my beloved touch-me-not?





Life is wonderful! It’s nice to walk in garden,

To keep your hand in silence

And to breathe in early spring.

I don’t want anything else. Let the sun shine!

I’ll love you forever, I’ll keep you like a pearl.

You are my highest reward. Lifeiswonderful!



Water lilies are scattered everywhere.

Dragonfilies rustle their wings,

The ants rush around hastily along a forgotten path.

Every blade of grass is wilted from the heat.

Our words cannot describe how enchanting is a drop

Of water under a sunbeam,

How sweet is the dizziness in your head!

The bumblebee flights onto the yellow pollen

Of a half-asleep flower.

The dream of midday in summer is fulfilled.

The world is not hurried.

The current of my time have become slower…


Ah, how wonderful is my dream! How madly I like it.

Let this dream go on continuously.

Is it possible to fall in love as before?

From which tribe did you arrive to burst my amorous moan,

To struggle through the rock like spring water?

Ah, how amazing is my dream!

How I crave for junction with you to kindle your passion!

I fell in love like a youth! Ah, how delightful is my dream!

How long these silver streams will run,

How long these golden leaves will dance,

How long these summer lightnings of love will blaze?

Ah, how ravishing and cheerful is my dream…


I think that love has special wings.

Sometimes you cannot see

The quivering of these wings

But these invisible wings move mountains!

Love has a special kind of vision.

It helps people to believe

In their own strengths,

It gives them hope again!

Let this eternal love

Bring new wings to everyone!

The woman whom I love / Женщина, которую люблю by Adolf Shvedchikov



Adolf shvjedçikov

            Adolf  Shvedchikov 



The woman whom I love

 Женщина, которую люблю 



© Adolf P. Shvedchikov, PhD, LittD (RUSSIA)

International Poet of Merit







You are the woman whom I love!

You are sensitive, tender, innocent,

You open gates of paradise.

I look into your amorous eyes

Burning with hidden desire!

I am dying and returned from dead,

I adore you, I worship you,

The woman whom I love!


Женщина, которую люблю,

Чувственная, нежная, святая,

Отворяешь ты ворота рая,

Я в глаза манящие смотрю,

От желанья острого сгораю,

Воскресая, заново горю,

Только лишь тебя боготворю,

Лишь тебя одну я обожаю,

Женщина, которую люблю!



My heart sang as before.

Sinking in a semi forgotten dream

I had fallen in love as in my youth.

My old body was young again.

I drank the sweet fraud of illusion.

The sun had dropped,

But the sunset glowed yet,

And I was glad to feel

That I was still alive!







Сердце на старинный лад запело,

Погрузя себя в полузабытый сон,

Я опять как в юности влюблён

И мечте я предаюсь всецело!

Молодеет старческое тело,

Пью иллюзий сладостный обман,

Снова я тобой, как прежде, пьян,

Вновь по жизни я шагаю смело!

Жаль, конечно, что светило село,

Но ещё не догорел закат,

Как лучу последнему я рад!

Нет, душа ещё не отлетела…





I look at the mirror

And see that my hair is gray!

It is time to fall in love again!

What will the devil bring us for gossip?

Old age is not so sweet

But let us forget about the bitterness

And try to find immortal words

To glorify a woman’s beauty!






Смотрю я в зеркало: седая голова!

Быть может, скоро бес в ребро ударит!

Кто знает, чем он нас теперь одарит,

И поползёт народная молва!

Конечно, старость – это не халва,

Но и не перец, нечего лукавить!

Ещё сумеем женщину прославить

И отыскать нетленные слова!



When your desires are only desires,

When the words are only words,

Who will inflame our lives

Without the fire from wood?

When you have no more aspiration,

The stream of threadbare words

Will never be replaced by a fire of love!






Когда желанья лишь желанья,

Когда слова всего слова,

Кто обогреет жизни зданье,

Когда сгорели все дрова?

И больше ни к чему стремленья,

Поток полуистлевшихъ слов,

И как изобразить горенье,

Когда в сарае нету дров!




Let us never break a thread from the past

The night vanished but the sunrise is coming,

A new day will bring a new life,

And the hope that our offspring will remember us!



Пусть прошлого не оборвётся нить,

Уходит ночь, зато рассвет встречает,

Восходит солнце, будем снова жить,

И пусть о нас потомки вспоминают!




The poet looks like a madman.

He invites us to his strange world

And sometimes de does not know

Exactly his realpath.

There is no prohibition on his imagination.

At times he is like a prophet among ruins,

Wandering through a wasteland

Illuminating the path by own light!






Безумцу ты, поэт, сродни,

В свой странный мир нас увлекаешь,

Порою толком сам не знаешь,

Куда уходят жизни дни…

И нету для тебя запрета,

Ты как пророк среди руин

Бредёшь дорогою один,

Свой путь прокладывая светом!



Why are you sad, tomorrow

Will come the smiling day,

Leave your oppressive, sorrow,

Let be it carried away!

Why are you sad, tomorrow

Will bring a lot of joy,

Let me your bad mood to borrow,

My tear-stained boy!







Не грусти, настанет утро,

Завтра будет день светлее,

Так давай поступим мудро,

Вытри слёзки поскорее.

Не грусти, засветит утро,

День весёлый разольётся,

Ну давай поступим мудро:

Пусть наш мальчик улыбнётся!




Forget about sadness, life is in blossom,

It is full of joyful, cheerful sunny days,

Oh, let me kiss your ample lovely bosom,

Lo! My beloved, it is fragrant, balmy May!

I am not nocturnal marsupial opossum,

I like mad wind and quivering sunlight,

Oh, let me touch you, bosom-upon-bosom,

And let us glide like a Chinese kite!






Вся жизнь в цвету, забудем о печали,

Смотри как засверкали майские дни,

Ты приласкай меня и обними,

Что сделать мне, чтоб мы поближе стали?

Опоссумом быть не хочу в ночи,

Давай с тобой любви запустим змея,

Взовьёмся ввысь, от радости немея,

И от восторга разом закричим!




You cannot imagine how I hate

The dreadful darkness, chilly and blind,

When you are helpless, you cannot find

An exit, you are a victim of your fate.

The situation is awful but you still await,

You are seeking the light at the end of the tunnel,

You hope to escape from this terrible funnel

And open at last that iron locked gate!






Себе не можешь даже ты представить,

Как ненавижу эту темноту,

Ужасный холод, жуткую пустоту,

Когда тебя рок беспощадно давит!

Бог даст, меня надежда не оставит,

В конце тоннеля свет ещё блеснёт,

Замок с ворот железных упадёт,

И мрак душой не будет больше править!




I remember every glorious day

Of my splendid radiant youth

When the color was never gray,

When we told each other the truth!

I remember those shady trees,

I remember my little town,

I still feel that caressing breeze

Embracing me like a nightgown.

Those days remain in my beating heart,

Oh, my youth, my eternal song,

Everything was beautiful, smart,

Every day was attractive and long!






Дни юности, прекрасными вы были,

Незабываем тонкий аромат,

Когда, смеясь, бывал всему так рад,

Когда друг другу правду говорили!

Раскидистых деревьев помню тень

И городок, в котором я родился,

Тот ветерок, что по пятам носился

И всё ласкал тебя он круглый день!

Всё, всё осталось в памяти моей,

О, юности волнующая песня,

Поверь, нет в жизни ничего чудесней

Очарованья тех далёких дней!




Ah, how wonderful is my dream!

How madly I like it.

Let this dream go on continuously.

Is it possible to fall in love as before?

From which tribe did you arrive

To burst my amorous moan,

To struggle through the rock like spring water?

Ah, how amazing is my dream!

How I crave for junction with you

To kindle your passion!

I fell in love like a youth!

Ah, how delightful is my dream!

How long these silver streams will run,

How long these golden leaves will dance,

How long these summer lightning of love will blaze?

Ah, how ravishing and cheerful is my dream…






Ах, какой удивительный сон!

Как безумно мне нравится он,

Пусть ещё сновидение длится,

Неужель я , как прежде, влюблён?

Из каких ты явилась племён,

Чтоб любовный мой вырвался стон,

Чтоб водой ключевою напиться…

Ах, какой удивительный сон!

О, как жажду с тобою я слиться,

Огнь желания пусть разгорится,

Я как юноша, снова влюблён!

Ах, какой восхитительный сон!

Долго ль струям серебряным литься,

Золотым листьям долго ль кружиться,

И любви полыхнут ли зарницы?



The nights are becoming dark and longer,

The wind is more furious and frosty,

Days are shorter and shorter,

Oh, winter, hurry up!

The first snow brings a relief

From sleepless dreary nights.

The first snow, give me the comfort of whiteness,

It is much better to live with you!

Silent snow, you are my oblivion,

How charming is a snowflake‘s flight!

The first snow, the combination of many fates,

The first snow, Christmas, Happy New Year!






Всё черней, всё томительней ночи,

Дует ветер всё злее и злей,

А деньки всё короче, короче,

О, зима, приходи поскорей!

Первый снег, принеси облегченье

От тоскливых бессонных ночей,

Подари белизну утешенья,

Жить с тобой, первый снег, веселей!

Снег безмолвный, моё ты забвенье,

Как чарует снежинок полёт,

Первый снег, стольких судеб сплетенье,

Первый снег, Рождество, Новый Год!



When I catch your tender eyes,

Your easily-frightened smile,

When everything is in vacillation

And a snowball begins to melt,

When I don’t know yet

What will happen tomorrow,

When the first sunbeam

Illuminates my humdrum existence,

When I still don’t understand

How sweet are those short moments,

How ardent are hidden feelings,

How desirable is the joy of closeness,

How passionate will be your kisses,

How burning will be my heart,

Then I know exactly

That I have fallen in love!


Когда твой взор ловлю я нежный,

Твою пугливую улыбку,

Когда туманно всё и зыбко,

Когда ком начал таять снежный,

Когда и сам ещё не знаешь:

Придёт, свершится, станет, будет,

Когда проснулся лучик буден,

Когда ещё не понимаешь,

Как сладки краткие мгновенья,

Как чувства скрытые играют,

Желанья тайные снедают

И ждёшь ты радости сближенья!

Ещё уста твои не знают,

Как страстны будут поцелуи,

Как нежно голуби воркуют,

Как сердце жаркое пылает!


I keep my profound secret

Deeply in my soul.

I carry this secret

Like a flickering candle

During a storm.

This unsolved secret is

Not for unfamiliar ears,

Not for stranger’s eyes,

This secret is only for us.

It reflects the joy of meeting

And the sadness of farewell.

It keeps hidden my dreams

Embracing both joy and torture,

And only you and I know about that…


Храню я тайну вековую,

О ней поведать не могу,

Её, запретную, глухую

В душе от всех я берегу.

Несу её так боязливо,

Как трепетну несут свечу,

Когда тоскливо и дождливо,

Упрятав тайну, я молчу.

Та неразгаданная тайна

Не для чужих змеиных глаз,

Не для людей она случайных,

Та тайна сладкая для нас.

В ней близость встреч и боль разлуки,

В ней затаённые мечты,

В ней столько радости и муки,

О чём лишь знаем я и ты…



A wild wind knocks at the window of my soul,

But I don’t want to let it enter my heart.

The gusty wind becomes more wicked.

In my fear I ask God to save me.

I was steadfast and the furious wind

Couldn’t reach me.

Oh my friend, be so kind

To warm my heart again!



Ветер ставней стучит и стучит,

В душу ломится, холод неся,

Но упрятало сердце ключи,

Открывать ветру ставни нельзя!

А порывы всё злее и злей,

Я от жуткого страха трясусь,

Говорю Богу я: пожалей

И в отчаяньи снова молюсь.

Как ни бился, ни рвался злодей,

Ничего он поделать не смог.

Приласкай, приголубь, отогрей,

Отопри моё сердце, дружок…


Terrestrial love was described my many poets.

Now bards getting on in years

Play chess under a tree’s shadow

In the hot summer.

I am not going to tell you

Any word about terrestrial love

But I’ll sing again and again

About celestial love.

You cannot find the fire

Of a passionate body in my lines.

I sing about innocent

And eternal celestial love!


Давно на все лады распета

Любовь земная, сами ж барды,

Состарившись, играют в нарды

Под смоковницей душным летом.

Я о любви земной не стану

Вам больше говорить ни слова,

Но буду воспевать я снова

Любовь небесну, осиянну.

Нет, пламень тела, жаркий, страстный

В моих ты не отыщешь строчках,

Я о Любви той непорочной,

О неземной, что так прекрасна!




How many people tried to spark this fire

Using wet wood. Alas! Ardent feelings

Are waned among smoked words.

Terrestrial words became threadbare,

Our language becomes too ordinary.

To light the fire of love

You need to find celestial words

Which is not easy to do.

Many generations of poets

Have repeated a million times

Myriad combinations of words

About tears, sadness and the pale moon.

I am in total despair

Sitting among these decaying words.

Fire of love…How nice is this fire

But where to find dry wood?







Костёр Любви, как многие пытались

Его разжечь, набравши мокрых дров,

Но чувства пылкие мгновенно испарялись

Среди чадящих и коптящих слов.

Слова земные так поизносились,

Обыденною стала наша речь,

Слова небес к нам на уста просились,

Способные костёр Любви зажечь!

На все лады мильоны сочетаний

Поэтами давно повторены,

Всё было: слёзы и страданья,

Поднадоевший бледный лик луны.

Сижу и я на этом пепелище

Среди полуистлевших мёртвых слов…

Костёр Любви… Так хочется стать чище!

Да где сухих теперь отыщешь дров?




Pink patches of light

Are jumping on the walls.

A scarlet sun is sinking.

Night is coming.

Everything is quenched,

A bird has finished the last song.

Silence and calm

Are everywhere…







Алые блики по стенам играют,

Медленно рыжее солнце садится,

Ночь приближается, всё замирает,

Всё затихает, всё гаснет, томится….

День отошёл, засветилась лампада,

Песню вечернюю птица пропела.

Дай насладиться последней руладой,

Ночь надвигается, жизнь пролетела…


I am sinking into your beckoning eyes.

I don’t want to be in the garden of paradise.

Give me something better to drink,

The wine of your love!

I am so happy that I forgot all world.

I am kissing your shoulders in ecstasy,

And standing motionless

Among quivering hills.

Let silver trumpets sing a song of love!

Your voluptuous lips burn like fire!


Я тону в глазах твоих зовущих,

Опускаюсь медленно до дна.

Не нужны мне больше райские кущи,

Дай испить любовного вина!

И от страсти дар теряя речи,
Не могу сыскать я нужных слов,

В упоении твои целую плечи,

Замираю среди трепетных холмов.

Пусть звенят серебряные трубы,

Ангелы небесные поют,

Чувственные, сладостные губы

Так огнём меня любовным жгут!


Adolf shvjedçikov

Dr. Adolf P. Shvedchikov, PhD, LittD

ist ein russischer Wissenschafter, Lyriker und Übersetzer.

Es wurde am 11 Mai 1937 in Shakty, Russland deboren, promovierte 1960 an der staatlichen Moskauer Universität und ist leitender Wissenschaftler am Institut fur Chemische Physik der russischen Akademie der Wissenschaften und Vorstand der Chemie der “Pulsatron Technology Corporation” in Los Angeles in den USA.

Er veröffentliche über 150 wissenschaftlische Abhandlungen und rund 500 seiner Gedichte in den verschiedensten internationalen Literaturzeitschriften in Russland, USA, Brasilien, Indien, China, Korea, Japan, Italien, Malta, Spanien, Frankreich, England, Greece und Australien. Seine Gedichte wurden auch ins Italienische, Spanische, Portugiesische, Deutsche, Albanische, Griechische, Chinesische, Japanische und Hindi ubersetzt.

Er ist Mitglied der International Society of Poets, des World Congress of Poets, der International Association of Writers and Artists und der Associazione Letteraria Italo-Australiana Scrittori in Melbourne, Australien.

Adolf P. Shvedchikov ist auch bekannt für seine Übersetzungen englischer Poesie (“150 englische Sonnets des 16. bis 19. Jahrhunderts”, Moskau, 1993; “Sonnets von William Shakespeare”, Moskau, 1996) als auch vieler moderner Gedichte aus Brasilien, Indien, Italien, USA, England, China und Japan.



Адольф Шведчиков




Выражаю глубокую благодарность Основателю Фонда «Друзья помогают друзьям» Барбаре ДеКовнер-Мейер и Годфри Харрису, Президенту Харрис-Рейган Менеджмент Групп за постоянный интерес, советы и помощь при подготовке издания этого сборника стихов.


I am very thankful to the Founder of “Friends Assisting Friends” Foundation Barbara DeKovner-Mayer and to Godfrey Harris, President of Harris/Ragan Management Group for their assistance and advice.

Adolf P. Shvedchikov, PhD, LittD(RUSSIA)

International Poet of Merit

Ins Deutche ubertragen von Kurt F. Svatek(AUSTRIA)



Meine Muse verstect sich hinter den Bäumen,

Meine Muse rollt die Hügel entlang,

Meine Muse ist in den schleppernden Rädern,

Meine Muse ist in der sanften Brise,

Meine Muse ist im Triller der Nachtigal,

Meine Muse ist auch die silberne Glocke.

Ohne meine Muse kann ich nicht leben,

Sie ist meine Freude und mein Geschlick!


My Muse is hiding among the trees,

My Muse is rolling along the hills,

My Muse is in the clanking wheels,

My Muse is in the tender breeze.

My Muse is in the nightingale’s trill,

My Muse is within a silver bell.

Without my Muse I cannot dwell,

She is my pleasure and my skill!



Муза милая, ты прячешься в деревьях,

Средь холмов ты в утренней росе,

Песнь твоя в скрипучем колесе,

В ветерке, что веет над деревней.

Моя Муза в трели соловья,

Колокольчику сестра она родная,

Как бы жил я без тебя, не знаю,

Муза, половинка ты моя!


Oh, du flinker, rechtschaffener Verstand,

Ohne dich kann ich nicht leben,

Kann ich nicht nach der rechten Schattierung suchen,

Ohne dich bin ich taub und blind,

Ohne dich kann ich meinem

Rechten und erfolgreichen Weg nicht finden,

Ohne dich komme ich vom Weg ab,

Mein nachdenklicher, subtiler Verstand.


Oh you, swift virtuous mind,

I could not live without you,

I could not search for a fine hue,

Without you I am deaf and blind.

Without you I cannot find

My correct and successful way,

Without you I go astray,

My meditative subtle mind!



О, ты, блестящий, тонкий ум,

Кем без тебя б я был, не знаю.

Ты свет и слух, я понимаю,

Не будь тебя, лишился б дум!

Мне без тебя б не отыскать

В сей жизни верную дорогу.

С пути не сбился, слава богу,

На всём стоит твоя печать!




Ein schrecklicher Schauder lief über meinem Rücken;

Es war ein furchterregendes Symptom,

Die Wirkung einer explodierenden Bombe

Oder des Teufels schrecklicher Plan.

Und plötzlich verstand ich,

Wie sinnlos mein Leben bisher war.

Ich bin nichts als ein mystisches Eiland!

O, wie wechselhaft ist meine Stimmung!


A dreadful chill ran down my spine,

It was a frightening symptom,

The effect of an exploded bomb

Or the devil’s terrible design.

And suddenly I understood

That my life has always been futile,

I am nothing but a mystic isle!

Oh, how changeable is my mood!







По спине мурашки побежали,

Мучит страх…Тревожен сей симптом,

Будто рядом бомбу подорвали,

Будто воры ломятся в твой дом.

И внезапно мысль тебя пронзает:

Жизнь – жестянка, всё идёт на слом,

Остров эфемерный исчезает,

Ну и настроенье, в горле ком!





Wie amüsant ist so eine kleine Bachstelze,

Sie hüpft forwahrend ohne Pause,

Oder sie läuft ihre Brust herausstreckend schnell umher,

O, wie beweglich ist dieser zuckende Schwanz!

Ich mag ihren unberechenbar schelmischen Flug,

Ich mag jede ihrer Pirouetten.

Ich meine noch nie so einem frohlichen Vogel

Voller subtiler Freude begegnet zu sein!


How amusing is a little wagtail.

She jumps continually without any rest,

Or quickly runs sticking out her chest,

Oh, how mobile is that flickering tail!

I like her unpredictable flight,

I like so much her every pirouette.

I testify I never ever met

Such a cheerful bird full of subtle delight!







Трясогуска скачет себе, скачет,

Выпятивши маленькую грудь,

Может, объяснит мне кто-нибудь,

Что её изящный танец значит?

Как прелестен каждый пируэт,

Так непредсказуем твой полёт,

Своей жизнью длинный хвост живёт,

О, занятней прички в мире нет!






Erinnerst du dich, als ich mein Liebeslied sang,

Meine Tranen der Verzweiflung glitzerten,

Aber du wolltest nicht zuhoren,

Du sagtest nur: “O, lass mich allein!”

Und alles was ich tat, war falsch,

Dein versteinertes Herz verweigerte sich mir zuzuhören,

Ich vergoss und vergoss meine Tränen vergeblich

Und wusste nicht fur wie lange…

Eine schwarze Rose der Traurigkeit erbluhe

An diesem unvergesslichen Platz.

Ich halte dein verwundertes Gesicht

Immer noch in Erinnerung

Und leere langsam eine bittere Schale…


Do you remember I sang my love song,

My tears of despair did glisten,

But you didn’t want to listen,

You told me only:”Oh, leave me alone!”

And everything I did was wrong,

Your heart of stone refused to hear,

I shed and shed in vain my tears,

And I don’t know for how long…

A black rose of sadness had grown up

At that unforgettable place.

I still keep in memory your bewildered face

And slowly empty a bitter cup…



Здесь тебе я песнь любовную пел,

Здесь глаза мои слезой блестели,

Здесь слова не достигали цели,

Страстью взор, увы, твой не горел!

Ничего поделать я не смог,

Каменное сердце лишь молчало,

Горьких слёз тогда пролил немало,

Долго ими увлажнял песок…

На том самом месте вырос куст,

Чёрной розы он вобрал печали.

Волосы мои седыми стали,

Но всё помню трепет твоих уст.






Ich gehe einen endlosen Weg

Meinen eigenen Platz im Leben zu finden,

Ich fuhle die scharfe Schneide eines blutigen Messers

Und suche eine geschutzte Bucht.

Ich bin krank durch Gewalt und Verwesung,

Ich leide am Netz der Lugen,

Ich möchte keinen frühen Tod

Ich möchte nicht vom Weg abkommen.

Ich bevorzuge ein selbst gemachtes silbernes Netz,

Wo ich meine ewige Ruhe finden könnte,

Wo ich ein ziemlich windgeschütztes Nest finden konnte,

Um den ewigen Wechsel von Ebbe und Flut zu betrachten.


I am rolling along an endless way

Trying to find my own place in this life

Feeling the sharp edge of a bloody knife

Looking for the sheltered bay.

I am sick from the violence and decay,

I suffer from a web of lies,

I don’t want my early demise,

I don’t want to go astray.

I prefer a self-made silver web

Where I may have my eternal rest,

Where I may find a quiet windless nest

Looking at the constant flow and ebb.



Качусь, качусь неведомым путём,

Пытаясь в жизни место отыскать,

Так надоело мучиться, страдать,

Не зная, обрету ль когда-то дом.

Везде воюют, некуда идти,

Обволокла густая сетка лжи,

Когда придёт конец всему, скажи,

И как не сбиться с верного пути?

Так хочется покой мне обрести,

Гнездо надёжное в скале высокой свить,

У моря мирного немножечко пожить,

Приливам и отливам счёт вести…




O, meine einfuhlsame Seele,

Wir ziehen unter dem sonnig blauen Himmel durch die Welt,

Sei fröhlich, wenn das Wetter so schon ist.

Wir haben so viele Meilen unseres Lebens zuruckgelassen

Und sitzen auf dem Randstein unseres Weges,

Nachdenklich, wie einsam wir sind.

Gott ist zu beschäftigt, uns zu helfen.

Ich weiss nicht, wie lang unser Weg noch sein wird,

Und wie viele Sonnenaufgänge wir noch sehen werden,

Doch lass uns nicht länger traurig sein,

Denn wir könne den Lauf der Jahreszeiten nicht ändern…






Oh my sensitive soul,

We are roaming about the world

Under the sunny blue sky

Being joyful when the weather is so nice.

Leaving behind many miles of our lives

We are sitting on the stone of our pathway

Thinking how longsome we are,

And God is too busy to help us.

I don’t know how long our way will be,

How many dawns will we see again?

Let us stop being sad.

We cannot change the run of seasons…


О, моя ранимая душа,

Долго мы бредём по белу свету,

Радуемся солнышку, при этом

Говорим: погодка хороша!

Прошагав по жизни столько вёрст,

Сядем у обочины дороги,

Знать, душа, одни с тобой, как перст,

И не помогают что-то боги…

Долго ли нам по свету шагать,
Много ли ещё встречать рассветов?

Снова в путь, не станем унывать,

Всё равно конец приходит лету…


Wir leben teilweise in einer anderen Welt.

Wo ist die Grenze

Zwischen Realität und Illusion?

Wir treiben entlang des Flusses der Zeit,

Und plötzlich enthullen unsere Gefühle,

Dass der Wald um uns herum

Nicht so dicht ist wie fruher…

Wir sind in Nebel der Realitat

Zwischen Leben und Tod.

Da sind zu viele Fragen

Ohne Antworten.

Ist unsere Welt nun wirklich oder imaginär?


Embracing ghosts of reality

We live partly in another world.

Where is the limit

Between reality and illusion?

We are floating along the river of time

And suddenly reveal our feelings

That the forest around us

Is not so dense as before…

We are in the fog of reality

Between life and death.

There are too many questions

Without answers.

Is our world real or illusory?



Обнимая призраки реального,

В мире мы живём уже другом,

И не знаем, может быть, умрём,

Или избежим конца печального.

Неизвестность…Где же тот предел

И куда уносит нас течением?

Замечаем только с удивлением,

Что лесок внезапно поредел…

Жизнь и смерть, реальности туман,

Вечные вопросы не кончаются,

Всё в калейдоскопе повторяется.

В чём секрет? Или весь мир – обман?




Adolf shvjedçikov

© Adolf P. Shvedchikov, PhD, LittD

International Poet of Merit (Russia)

Dr. Adolf P. Shvedchikov, PhD, LittD

Cientifico, poeta y traductor ruso

Nacido el 11 de Mayo de 1937 en Shakhty, Rusia. Graduado en 1960 en la Universidad Estatal de Moscú. Cientifico del Instituto de Quimica Fisica y de la Academia Rusa de las Cienas de Moscú. Jefe quimico en la Corporación Tecnológica de Pulsatron en Los Angeles, CA, USA. Ha publicado más de 150 trabajos cientificos y unos 500 poemas en diferentes revistas internacionales de poesia en Rusia, Estados Unidos, Brasil, la India, China, Corea, Japón, Italia, Malta, España, Francia, Grecia, Albania, Romania, Inglaterra y Australia. Sus poemas han sido traducidos al italiano, español, portugués, griego, chino, japonés, germano e hindi.

Es miembro de Sociedad Internacional de Poetas, el Congreso Mundial de Poetas, y la Asociación Internacional de Escritores y Artistas. También es conocido por sus traducciones de poesía inglesa (150 sonetos ingleses de los siglos XVI-XIX. Moscú.1992. William Shakespeare. Sonetos. Moscú. 1996. Asimismo ha traducido a numerosos poetas contemporáneos de Brasil, India, Italia, Grecia, Estados Unidos, Inglaterra, China y Japón.




Adolf P. Shvedchikov, PhD, LittD

International Poet of Merit (Russia)

Traducción por

Teresinka Pereira (USA)


Estoy muy agradecido a mi destino

Porque el ángel del amor me ha tocado.

Nunca te olvidaré, mi amado

Ángel celestial, ángel terrestre.

Te recordaré por toda mi vida,

Y nunca estarás solo.

La muerte no tendrea

Ningún poder sobre nosotros

Porque la vida nos ha juntado,

Mi amado ángel celestial, ángel terrestre.


I am so thankful to my fate

Because the Angel of Love touched me.

I’ll never forget you, my beloved

Celestial angel, terrestrial angel.

I’ll remember you all my life,

And you will never stay alone.

Death is powerless because Life united us,

My beloved celestial angel, terrestrial angel.



Я благодарен судьбе до могилы,

Ангел любви пролетел надо мной!

Не позабудется образ твой милый,

Ангел небесный, мой ангел земной!

Помню всю жизнь, и пока что есть силы,

Век я с тобою, не будешь одной.

Смерть, ты бессильна, нас жизнь породнила,

Ангел небесный, мой ангел земной!



Adolf P. Shvedchikov, PhD, LittD

International Poet of Merit (Russia)

Traducción por:

José Antonio Alonso Navarro (España)


Recuerdo cada glorioso dia

De mi juventud maravillosa y radiante,

Cuando nada era gris,

Cuando nos decíamos siempre la verdad.

Recuerdo esos árboles llenos de sombra,

Recuerdo mi pequeña ciudad,

Y aún siento esa brisa que me acariciaba

Y abrazaba como un camisón.

Aquellos dias permanecen grabados en mi

Corazón palpitante,

¡Ay, juventud mia, eterna canción!

¡Cuando todo era bello y elegante!

¡Cuando todos los dias eran hermosos y prolongados!



I remember every glorious day

Of my splendid radiant youth

When the color was never gray,

When we told each other the truth!

I remember those shady trees,

I remember my little town,

I still feel that caressing breeze

Embracing me like a nightgown.

Those days remain in my beating heart,

Oh, my youth, my eternal song,

Everything was beautiful, smart,

Every day was attractive and long!



Дни юности, прекрасными вы были,

Незабываем тонкий аромат,

Когда, смеясь, бывал всему так рад,

Когда друг другу правду говорили!

Раскидистых деревьев помню тень

И городок, в котором я родился,

Тот ветерок, что по пятам носился

И всё ласкал тебя он каждый день.

Всё, всё осталось в памяти моей,

О юности волнующая песня,

Поверь, нет в жизни ничего чудесней

Очарованья тех далёких дней!






© Adolf P. Shvedchikov, PhD, LittD

International Poet of Merit (Russia)

Traducción por

Salomé Molina-López(España)


Me gusta tu ambarino mobiliario

Me gusta tu lujuria, tu majestuosa multitud

Me gusta esta lenta danza

Carmesí, que llena el otoño

De un romance inacabado.

El recuerdo de un verano calido.

Mi estrofa de adiós esta corriendo todavía

Entre una somnolienta tempestad

Que abarca todos los días.


I like your amber furnishings,

I like your luxuriant, majestic crown,

I like this slow dance

Of the crimson autumn leaves.

I feel in this dance a melancholy

Of uncompleted romance,

Remembrance of hot summer.

My farewell stanza is still running

Among drowsy fog and everyday concerns…



Люблю твоё янтарное убранство,

Люблю твой пышный, царственный венец,

Люблю златых я листьев багрянец,

Когда они кружатся плавно в танце.

В нём грусть незавершенного романса,

Ещё в нём лето позднее живёт.

Среди туманов сонных и забот

Ещё бегут мои прощальные стансы…

© Adolf P. Shvedchikov, PhD, LittD

International Poet of Merit (Russia)

Traducción por Margarita Chacón López (España)



Murió un poeta.Hubo sólo

Unos cuantas palabras entre las noticias,

Pero hubo interminables anuncios…

Murió un poeta, sus palabras

Están encerradas dentro de esta caja silenciosa.

¿Quién abrirá la puerta de nuevo

Y dejará a los pájaros elevarse por el sielo?

El poeta extraño espereo mucho tiempo

Que los prjuincios humanos serían destruidos

Y él encontraría al fin a su lector.

Toda su vida se mantuvo en equilibrio

En el filo de la vida y la muerte

Intentando no hundirse en el cenagal

De la vida humana. Murió un poeta…

¡Quizá una nueva generación reabrirá

Las páginas de sus libros!


A poet passed away. There were only

Several words among the TV news,

But there was endless advertising…

A poet passed away, his words

Are locked inside of his silent shell.

Who will open again the door

And let his birds soar in the sky?

The strange poet expected for a long time

That human prejudices would be destroyed

And he would find at last his reader.

All life he balanced on the edge of life and death

Trying not to sink into quagmire

Of human life. A poet passed away…

Perhaps, a new generation will reopen

Pages of his books!


Так буднично всё как-то прозвучало

Средь теленовостей, что больше нету

На этом свете странного поэта.

Реклама без конца и без начала…

Ушёл поэт, умолкло его слово,

И тишина, загробное молчанье…

Кто дверь откроет в опустевшем здании

И выпустит на волю птицу снова?

Он долго ждал, когда его дыханье,

Прорвавшись хриплым и надрывным стоном,

Низвергнет стойких предрассудков тонны,

Поэт, кто балансировал на грани

Безмолвия и звука, жизни – смерти,

С бессилием он бился слабой плоти,

Стараясь всё не утонуть в болоте

Сей каждодневной жизни круговерти.

Поэта нет, но остаётся слово,

Опять открыты книг его страницы,

Склоняются над ними юных лица,

Поэт из мёртвых воскресает снова!

© Adolf P. Shvedchikov, PhD, LittD

International Poet of Merit

Traducido por Sonia Perises (España)





Me parecía a mí, mi palabra

Naturaleza encantada, que yo dictaba en adelante

Las nuevas bases, que llegaba a ser

El Creador del Cielo. Me parecía a mi que

Había encontrado la libertad absoluta,

Que yo estaba capacitado para parar

El tiempo que corría

Y para cambiar cualquier momento.Me parecía a mi que

Mis habilidades no tenían fin que yo podía hacer todo

Sintiendo mi fuerza apelé a los dioses y les dije que

Era capaz de crear un mundo feliz!

Pero no escuché ninguna respuesta de los disoes

Y el negro cielo estaba silencioso.De repente entendí

Que todos mis intentos

Para camdiar el mundo fueron en vano.


It seemed to me that my word enchanted nature,

That I put forth the new basis, that I became

The Creator of Heaven. It seemed to me that

I found absolute freedom, that I was able to stop

The time current and to change any moment.

It seemed to me that my abilities are endless,

That I can do everything. Feeling my strength

I appealed to gods and said that

I may create a new happy world!

But I didn’t hear an answer from gods,

And the black sky was silent. Suddenly I understood

That all my attempts to change the world were in vain!



Казалось мне, своим я словом

Природу всю околдовал,

Перекроив первоосновы,

Мессией долгожданным стал!

Казалось мне, будто свободу

Я абсолютную постиг,

Вспять обратить способен воды,

Переиначить каждый миг!

Казалось, больше нет предела

Теперь способностям моим,

Подвластны мне душа и тело,

Я всё могу, я стал другим!
И сил почувствовав приливы,

Воззвал к небесным я богам:

Я сделал мир таким счастливым,

Который и не снился вам!

Когда ж вы, боги, обратите

Свой взор на новый рай земной,

Ну что же, боги, вcё молчите,

Ответ дадите мне какой?

Но небо тёмное дремало,

В безмолвии катилась ночь.

И мира райского не стало,

И боги не смогли помочь…

© Adolf P. Shvedchikov, PhD, LittD

International Poet of Merit

Traducido por Salomé Molina López (España)


La vida tiene muchas carascomo un kaleidoscopio

Algunas veces nos da la luzde un brillante destello,

Otras es como una mandíbula cerrada,

Cuando es hipócrita nos quita la esperanza

Como una reina que ganara siempre.

Si eres un rey o un sumiso en el amor

Tú puedes alcanzar las cimas o caer en los abismos.

Perdonar o condenar, tú vas a ver en el amor

Una cara rosa o de sacrificio

Como el hielo o el fuego lo transforma todo.

Lleva la tempestad o la paz a nuestra alma,

Con su paleta rica de colores

De su cuerpo de verdadera musa.

Nos muestra su donaire descubriéndos todo

El ayer o el mañana queramos nosostros o no.


Life is many-sided, like a caleidoscope.

It may bring light as glowing sparks

Or it may look like jaws of sharks.

Sometimes it it is treacherous, other times it gives hope.

You may be fastened by a thick rope,

Maybe you are a king in love or someone driven,

You may be punished or may be forgiven.

You may reach the top or slip on the slope.

Love changes always her miriad forms.

Once it seems like a severe sacrifice,

Other times it is hot fire or cold ice,

It changes our life and transforms.

Love may be peaceful or bring the storm.

It conveys pleasure to every man,

It may return everything it can.

Sometimes it is cold, at times it is warm.

Love’s color has a thousand hues.

And you will never understand,

How endless is this unknown land,

When you discovwr something anew!



Любовь многогранна, как калейдоскоп,

Порою как искра сверкает,

Как челюсть акулы сминает,

И нету сигнала ей стоп!

Порой связан ты по рукам и ногам,

Рабом её век остаёшься,

А то королём вдруг проснёшься,

Несёшься навстречу мечтам!

О, как у любви много призрачных форм,

Она то жертвоприношенье,

То жаркий огонь, то смиренье,

То тлеет, то пышет как горн!

Она то спокойна, то яра как шторм,

Приносит удовлетворенье,

Или вызывает смятенье,

Любви ты будь вечно покорн!

Так много оттенков и красок любви,

Никто её тайн не познает,

Она, как туман, всё скрывает,

Ты сладостный миг мимолётный лови!






Adolf shvjedçikov

                Dr. Adolf P. Shvedchikov

Dr. Adolf P. Shvedchikov, Docteur en Philosophie, Docteur en Lettres (RUSSIE)

Acientifique, poete et traducteur

Ne le 11 mai 1937 a Shakty, Russie. Diplome 1960, Moscou, Universite de l’Etat. Scientifique principal,
l’Institute de Chimique Physique, Academie Russe de Sciences, Moscou. Chef de Chimie ,, Pulsatron Technology Corporatrion, Los Angeles, CA, USA.

Il publie plus 150 memoires scientifiques et environ 500 de ses poemes dans plusieurs journaux de poesie en Russe, les USA, le Bresil, l’Inde, la Chine, le Koree, le Japon, l’Italie, malte, l’Espagne, la France, l’Albanie, la Grece, la Romania, l’Anglettere et l”Australie. Ses poemes ont ete traduits en italiaen, espagnol, grec, portugais, chinos, japonais, albanias, romanias, allemand et hindi.

Membre de la Societe Internationale de Poetes, le Congres Mondiale de Poetes, l’Association Internationale d”Ecrivains et Artistes, AssociationLitteraire Italo-Australien d’Ecrivains, Melbourne, Australia. Il est egalement connu pour ses traductions de npoesie anglais (“150 English Sonnets of XVI-XIX Centuries”, Moscou.1992, “William Shakespeare. Sonnets”, Moscou.1996) ainsi que des traductions de plusieurs poetes modernes du Bresil, l’Inde, l’Italie, la Greece, les USA, l’Anglettere, la Chine et le Japon.




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Copyright © Dr. Florentin Smarandache and Dr. Adolf Shvedchikov, 2012

Copyright © Pro-Learn Quest (Ann Arbor), 2012

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Peer-Reviewers by:

Alexander Ponizovsky, author, scientist, Moscow, Russia

Nadia-Cella Pop, poetess, Braşov, România

Riza Lahi, author, Tirana, Albania

Florentin Smarandache, poet, scientist, New Mexico, USA

С книгой ознакомлены:

Александр Понизовский, писатель, учёный, Москва, Россия

Надя Челла Поп,поэтесса, Брашовб Руьыния

Риза Лахи, писатель, Тирана, Албания

Флорентин Смарандаке, поэт, учёный, Нью-Мексико, США

© Adolf P. Shvedchikov, PhD, LittD (RUSSIA)

International Poet of Merit

Translated into Romanian by

Dragoş BARBU, Nadia-Cella POP (ROMÂNIA)


Barzi ai tristeţii, barzi ai hazului

Voi aţi cîntat bucuria şi îndurerarea,

Barzi ai tainei, ne-ati fost clopote şi gongugi,

Şi uneori păreaţi zei de pămînt!

Intinzînd aripi lucitoare de omt

Voi aţi plutit în spectrul curcubeului.

Emoţionaţi , pămîntenii v-au urmat zborul

Căci sublimele voastre cuvinte

Au atins coarda sufletului lor.

Dar mulţimile de barzi au avut o soartă sumbră,

Trecînd în necunoscut, unul cîte unul

Fără a fi vreodată scăldati în soarele gloriei

Şi nimeni nu le-a spus că sînt vestiţi şi mari.

O, glorioase Ceruri, deschideţi-v poarta,

Daţi-le altă şansă, ca să înclînte iară

Sufletul şi istoria popoarelor

Pîna nu va prea tîrziu!


The bards of sadness, the bards of mirth,

You have sung your joyful and sorrowful songs,

Weird bards, you were our bells and gongs,

Sometimes you seemed like gods on earth!

Spreading your snowy gleaming wings

You have soared alone in the turquois light,

Excited human beings followed your flight,

Your sublime words touched the souls strings.

But miriad bards had a terrible fate,

They passed on unknown, one by one,

Never became spoiled by the glory’s sun,

And nobody called them renowned or great.

Oh, glorious Heaven, open your gate,

Admit all bards, both poor and rich,

Give them another chance to bewitch

The souls of people, it is not yet too late!



О, барды радости, печали,

Как много песен вы пропели,

Лаская соловьиной трелью,

Земными вы богами стали.

Свои раправив белы крылья,

Небесным ангелом летали,

И все, кто слушал вас, рыдали,

И слёзы лились в изобильи.

Но и другие барды были,

О них мы ничего не знали,

Венками их не украшали,

На пьедестал не возводили.

О Небеса, откройте двери

И всех вы бардов пригласите,

Почёт им равный окажите,

Чтоб каждый мог в себя поверить!

© Adolf P. Shvedchikov, PhD, LittD (RUSSIA)

International Poet of Merit

Translated into Romanian by

Michel Bénard (ROMÂNIA)


Sunt măr cu-obraji-bujori, atârn pe ram,

Mi-aştept vrerea sorţii de neinvidiat,

Atârn—balans timid pe-un trunchi uscat—

Şi-urăsc vânt rătăcit, necruţător, ce-mi este hram.

Acum că zilele cu-nmiresmata înflorire-s duse,

Totu-i trecut- minunea zilelor de vară-,

Ştiu doar că viitoru-şi leapădă sublima-i povară

Şi atât visez: că mâna-ntinsă rupse

Un m˘ar preacopţ numai bun de înfruptat.

Mus,că, aşadar, măr rozalind căt e parfum,

M˘anâncă măr zemos cu-obraji-bujori acum

Şi nu-l lăsa să cadă la pământ, de viermi trădat!


Im a red-cheeked aplle hanging on the limb

Awaiting what brings my unenviable fate,

Im hanging timidly on a dry stem and I hate

That wandering wind which is both fierce and grim.

Now the old days of blooming are behind,

All in the past, that gorgeous summer time,

I know my future will not be sublime,

I only dream that somebody will find

A ripened apple and tear it away.

Bite the rosy apple when it has a taste,

Eat the red-cheeked juicy apple without haste,

Dont let it fall to the ground and decay!


Вишу я яблоком на тонком черенке

И грустно о судьбе своей гадаю,

Порывами злой ветер налетает,

Жизнь теплится порой на волоске.

Цветенья дни так часто вспоминаю,

Храню тепло я солнечных лучей

Незабываемых горячих летних дней,

Как долго мне висеть, пока не знаю.

Возможно, кто-то и меня сорвёт,

На вкус попробует, ведь я уже поспело…

Но вы же вечно заняты все делом,

А яблоко, упав, меж тем сгниёт!



© Adolf P. Shvedchikov, PhD, LittD (RUSSIA)

International Poet of Merit

Translated into Romanian by

Gabriela Pachia (ROMÂNIA)


Cândva, în viitor,

Când alţi oameni tăi-vor

Cineva, poate, de mine-si va reaminti

Şi vor citi si ale mele versuri,

Cu vechi ‘parfum din alte universuri.

Vi s-or uita cu sârg

La ruginitul lacăt în amurg

Şi-or deschide us,a -nvechită

Spre-a mea uitată firidă.

Găsi-vor doar o tolb ă-n ea-

Cuvinte jumătate-n altă stea-

Şi sufletu-mi, chiar vestejit, dar aievea!




Translated into Romanian by

Adrian M. Creţu




Târziu în viitor

Când al;ţii viaţa-şi vor trăi

Poate cineva îşi va aduce aminte de mine.

Poate îmi vor citi versurile,

Respirând o aromă din trecut.

Poate că vor privi

Către încuietoarea ruginită a casei

Şi deschizând uşa scorojit˘a a camerei mele —

Vor găsi înăuntru un cufăr

De cuvinte pe jmtate apuse

Şi sufletu-mi veştejit-dar încă în viaţă!





De gerul va sosi

În săutul meu te vei încălzi—

Prinţesa mea-în viat, ă iar vei fi

Cu obrajii strălucii.

Când vieţi bătrâne moartea-si vor găsi,

Noi muguri în floare se vor împlini.

De cuvinte magice nevoie nu va fi,

ci un vers de dragoste te va reînsufletţi!

Dragostea mea-fără grijă tu să fii,

Cănd un vânt năpraznic va veni—

Tu arată-tţi obrajii trandafirii.

C˘ci de frig îţi va fi

Din mâinile mele căldură vei primi!


If a winter chill will come,

You’ll get warmed by my kiss.

My princess will be alive again

With glowing cheeks.

When old lives die,

The new bud will yield new flowers.

We don’t need a magic word,

One line of love will revive you!

My beloved, don’t worry,

If a chilly wind will come,

Let your cheek be like a pinky rose.

If you will be cold,

My hands will give you warmth!



Усли холодом зимним дохнёт,

Поцелуем тебя отогрею,

Вновь принцесса моя оживёт,

Снова щёчки её заалеют!

И на месте опавших листков

Вновь пробьются набухшие почки,

И волшебных не нужно нам слов,

Нам любовной достаточно строчки.

Нет, любимой не страшен мороз,

Коль заботливы руки согреют,

Пробирает пускай он до слёз,

Роза алая пусть пламенеет!



© Adolf P. Shvedchikov, PhD,LittD (RUSSIA)

International Poet of Merit

Translated into Romanian by

Eugen Evu (ROMÂNIA)


Pasăre-albastră a bucuriei si

Plăcerii mele,

Te caut frenetic peste tot.

Nu te găsesc nici măsura cu care

Să-mi evaluez nepreţuita comoară

Tu, pasăre albastră invizibilă

Esţi vie oare sau o absurdă legendă

Scrisă pe al cerului azur?



The blue-bird of my joy and pleasure,

Im looking for you everywhere,

You are not here, you are not there,

I cannot find that proper measure

To evaluate my priceless treasure.

You, an invisible blue-bird,

Are you alive or are you an absurd

Fantasy scattered in the azure?






О, синяя птица счастья,

Повсюду я тебя ищу,

Не то чтоб на судьбу ропщу,

Но в сердце вечное ненастье…

Как мне бесценный клад найти,

Скажи, невидимая птица,

Легко так в жизни заблудиться

И сбиться с верного пути!





© Adolf P. Shvedchikov, PhD, LittD (RUSSIA)

International Poet of Merit

Translated into Romanian by

Dragoş Barbu (ROMÂNIA)


Privesc cerul înhaltşi mă gândesc

La Luna ce-aruncă lumină şi şoapte,

Simt , prin suspine, aromele verii cum cresc,

Mă-nvăluie tainic o mantie de noapte.

Iubesc sărutul ei, şi-a ei trufie,

Copacul nopţii mai foşneşte, legendar

Şi sunt într-o nepieritoare reverie…

Nu mai pot spune: totul e-n zadar.



I am looking pensively at the starry sky,

Where the moon emits a blissful light,

I feel the fragrant summer’s sigh,

To wrap myself in a mantle of night.

My silent night, I like your kiss,

A whisper of leafy tree’s refrain,

I am in everlasting bliss,

I cant’t say: it was all in vain.



Гляжу задумчиво я в звёздные небеса,

Где льёт луна таинственные лучи,

Где слышу я волшебные голоса

И облачаюсь в мантию ночи.

Далёких звёзд дрожащий поцелуй

И листьев шепчущихся трепетный рефрен…

Постигни суть блаженства, не тоскуй,

Забудь о том, что миром правит тлен…

© Adolf P. Shvedchikov, PhD, LittD (RUSSIA)

International Poet of Merit

Translated into Romanian by

Petronela Corobleanu (ROMÂNIA)


Nu da crezare tăcerii,

Te vat rage pe sfoară.

După noaptea liniştită

O furtună năprasnică vine

Şi are să nimicească tot.

Codrul viseaza pasnic,

Iar frunzişul şuşoteşte.

Însă tăcerea este iluzorie,

Întrucăt un foc mistuitor se apropie.

Dacă inima-ti e calmă,

Faci o greşcală primejdioasă,

Nu ştii ce s-ar putea întămpla

În clipa următoare cu cei dragi tie!

Tăcerea e prevestitoare de furtuni,

Crede-mă, altminteri va fi prea tărziu

Pentru a schimba ceva!


Don’t trust silence,

It will play the full with you.

After the calmly night

A furious tornado comes

And will destruct everything.

The forest dreams peacefully,

And leaves are whispering.

But it is an illusory silence,

Because a brushfire is near.

If your heart is quietly,

It is risky mistake, because

You don’t know what may happen

Next moment with your beloved!

Silence is a prophet of a storm,

Trust me, otherwise it will be too late

To change anything!


Не верьте тишине,

Она всегда обманет,

Сон сладок при луне,

Но только солнце встанет,

Вихрь чёрный налетит

И всё вокруг разрушит,

А тишина молчит

На море и на суше.

Умолк еловый лес,

Дрожат его иголки,

Но вскоре до небес

Скакнёт огонь по ёлкам!

На сердце благодать…

Опасно заблужденье,

Всё может запылать,

Сгореть в одно мгновенье!

Поверьте, тишина –

Предвестник бури грозной,

Расставит сеть она,

Тогда уж будет поздно!

© Adolf P. Shvedchikov, PhD, LittD (RUSSIA)

International Poet of Merit

Translated into Romanian by

Anton Petrovschi (ROMÂNIA)

Translated into English by Dragoş Barbu (ROMÂNIA)


Muză sărmană, ce jalnica ruină ai ajuns,

Doar melodii trecute mai poţi tu fredona.

Fără catarg, aiurea, pluteşti tu, luntrea mea,

Şi-ai înfruntat semeată al vieţii crud apus!

Gingaşă, graţioasă, tu, mândră surioară,

O lebădă ranita, chiar să mai zbori cutezi,

Şi cântecul de-adio în slăvi să-l fredonezi.

Dar aripile-s frânte, iar timpul tău s-a scurs…


Poor Muse, you are in a sorry state,

Only old melodies you still can hum.

Without a mast, you are floating away, my boat,

And you faced with pride the life’s twilight!

Dainty and gracious, you, brave sister,

A wounded swan, you sing your farewell song into the sky,

But your wings are broken, and your time has gone…


О, Муза бедная, сгорела ты дотла,

О днях минувших песнь теперь поёшь.

Куда, мой чёлн, без мачты ты плывёшь,

Безжалостно жизнь прошлое смела!

Невинная, любимая сестра,

Лебёдка раненая, хочешь ты взлететь

И песнь свою последнюю пропеть,

Да крылья сломаны, ушла твоя пора…


Adolf P. Shvedchikov, PhD, LittD (RUSSIA) / Traduits par Nadia-Cella Pop (ROMÂNIA) ; Gina Rapez (FRANCE) ; Raymond Bath (BELGIQUE)

Adolf shvjedçikov

Adolf P. Shvedchikov, PhD, LittD (RUSSIA)

 International Poet of Merit

Dr. Adolf P. Shvedchikov, Docteur en Philosophie, Docteur en Lettres (RUSSIE)

Scientifique, poete et traducteur

Ne le 11 mai 1937 a Shakty, Russie. Diplome 1960, Moscou, Universite de l’Etat. Scientifique principal, l’Institute de Chimique Physique, Academie Russe de Sciences, Moscou. Chef de Chimie, Pulsatron Technology Corporation, Los Angeles, California, USA.

Il a publie plus de 150 memoires scientificues et environ 500 de ses poemes dans plusieurs journaux de poesie en Russie, les USA, le Bresil, l’Inde, la Chine, le Koree, le Japon, l’Italie, Malte, l’Espagne, la France, l’Albanie, la Grece, l’Angleterre et l’Australie. Ses poemes ont ete traduits en italien, espagnol, portugais, grec, chinois, japonais, albanais, allemand et hindi.

Membre de la Societe Internationale de Poetes, le Congres Mondiale de Poetes, l’Association Internationale d’Ecrivains et Artistes, A. L. I. A. S. (Association Litteraire Italo-Australien d’Ecrivains, Melbourne, Australie). Il est egalement connu pour ses traductions de poesie anglais (“150 English Sonnets of XVI-XIX Centuries”, Moscou, 1992; “William Shakespeare, Sonnets”, Moscou, 1996) ainsi que des traductions de plusieurs poetes modernes du Bresil, l’Inde, l’Italie, la Greece, les USA, l’Angleterre, la Chine et le Japon.







Traduits par Nadia-Cella Pop  (ROMÂNIA) ; Gina Rapez (FRANCE) ; Raymond Bath (BELGIQUE)




© Adolf P. Shvedchikov, PhD, LittD (RUSSIA)

International Poet of Merit

Traduits par Nadia-Cella Pop (ROMÂNIA)






Le soleil brille, les oiseaux périent.
La nature garde son harmonie.
Mais, en bas du soleil
Les nuages font un groupe noir.
Les arbres tristes attendent…
L’orage s’approche par les rameaux
Ainsi quelles vagues folles.
Et voila, on entende au loin
La première rafale de vent
Es puis l’eclairet et le tonnerre,
An annoncent le profil de l’orage.
En fin le ciel devient rouge
Dans le spectacle sans egal
De l’orage d’été.






The sun is shining, the birds are singing…

All of nature is in harmony!

But at the lower part of the sky

Near the horizon the black clouds

Gather together.

The trees are awaiting sadly

The approach of a tempest

Waving by the branches.

The first gust of wind appears.

You hear the faraway crash of thunder.

The black clouds are closer and closer,

And at last all the sky is illuminated

By an enchanting spectacle

Of a summer thunderstorm!






Светит солнышко, птицы поют

Вся гармонией дышит природа,

Но вдали на краю небосвода

Снова тёмные тучи ползут.

И деревья испуганно ждут

Приближения бури с печалью,

Вот ветвями они закачали,

И от листиков тени бегут.

Полоснул ветра первого кнут,

Где-то бочка вдали громыхнула,

Волны катятся смутного гула,

И грозы полыхает салют!






Ecoutes raison! L’obscuritè est partout.

Je ne peux pas distinguer

Le fin de commencement.

Je dis des mensonges à mon pauvre coeur.

Il demande d’ être flatter un peu

Pour se sentir hereux.

N’importe que les fleurs de l’amour

Ne sont pas m ême fraóches

Moi, je t’en prie n’oublier pas

Que tu es dans le mÍme canot

Donc le míme cable nous attend.

Mentis gentilement mon coeur

Guèris-moi quelque sorte

Car il est insuportable de sentir toujours

La duritè de la tristesse

En me disant que la mort s’approche.

Raison vigilante, donnes-moi une chance

Pour croire seulement un instant

Dans un miracle inutile.

Je sais tu as compris tout

Dans ce monde si cru.

Pourtant, je t’en souplis encore une fois.

Ne ferme pas la porte

A mon pauvre et solitaire coeur!






Listen, mind! There is darkness everywhere,

I cannot separate the end from the beginning.

Tell lies to my poor heart,

It needs a little flattery to be happy!

It does not matter that the flowers of love

Are not so fresh now, but please do not forget

That we are in the same boat,

And the same pier awaits both of us.

Tell a white lie to my poor heart, give it a little relief.

It is unbearable to feel permanently

The sharp razor of sadness

And to think all the time about mortality!

Sober mind, give a chance to believe for a moment

In a vain miracle. I know that you have understood

Everything in this cruel world. Nevertheless I beseech

You again do not lock the door of my poor heart!






Послушай, ум, не видно ведь ни зги,

Где ждёт конец, где царствует начало,

Ты сердцу бедному хоть чуточку солги,

Ему для счастья нужно так ведь мало!

Его своей заботой успокой,

Пускай цветы любви чуть-чуть увяли,

Но мы ж плывём ведь в лодке-то одной,

И встретися мы на одном причале.

Пусть светлая коснётся сердца ложь,

Немного дай ему успокоенья,

Тоски так опротивел острый нож,

Так мысль страшна о неизбежном тлении!

О, трезвый ум, забыться дай на миг,

В несбыточное чудо дай поверить,

Пусть всю уже премудрость ты постиг,

Не закрывай, прошу, пред сердцем двери!






Quand je suis sur le champ

Je peux regarder le ciel bleu

En couvrant les mèlodies douces

Be l’invisible allouette,

Qui caresse l’ouïe.

Une joyeuse cigale sifile.

Dans l’herbe haute

Sans notre possibilitè de la trouver.

Les bourgeons se sont habillè

Dans leurs châles des feuilles,

Pour dèfendre la fragilitè

Des yeux des voleurs.

L’enchantement du poëte

Est de pènètrer subtilement

Dans les pensèers et les sentiments

De ce coin de la nature.






You are in the field. Lo and behold!

The hidden warbles suddenly unfold.

Look in the sky, turquoise and bright,

An invisible skylark sings with delight!

A joyful grasshopper crackles in the grass,

Trust me, you will never find him, alas!

The buds are wrapped in a shawl of leaves

To hide their pleasure from the eyes of thieves.

The delight for a poet is to melt into thought

Full of the feelings and finely wrought!






Трель сладкая над полем разольётся,

Коль жаворонок в небо унесётся.

Случаются ж такие чудеса:

Нет птички, но звенят все небеса!

В траве кузнечик радостно поёт,

Его никто, увы, там не найдёт!

Среди листвы запрятался бутон,

Чужому глазу недоступен он.

И прячет удовольствие поэт,

Скрываясь в мысли тонкой много лет!




© Adolf P. Shvedchikov, PhD, LittD(RUSSIA)

International Poet of Merit

Traduits par Gina Rapez (FRANCE)




Le coucher de soleil brûle…les peupliers

Fatiquès chuchotent.

Encore un jour disparu avec tours ses problémes.

Comme aux temps bibliques

Un troupeau de moutons se dèplacent

Laissant derrière lui des nuages de poussière.

Près du pied d’une montagne bleu ancienne

Je vois le mÍme berger

Couvert par la même peau de mouton

Et entends le mÍme aboiement des chiens.

Le troupeau est disparu au loin

Je ne peux plus entendre le bellement des moutons.

Comprendrons-nous un jour la raison

De ce mouvement èternel?

Le coucher de solei brûle…






Sunset is burning… The tired poplars whisper.

Another day disappeared with all its troubles.

As in biblical times

A herd of sheep moves blowing clouds of dust

Near the foot of an ancient blue mountains.

I see the same sheperd

Covered by the same sheepskin

And hear the same barking of dogs.

The herd has disappeared in the distance,

I cannot hear the bleating of sheep anymore.

Will we ever understand the reason

Of this eternal movement?

Sunset is burning…






Садится солнце…Тополя устало

Под ветерком шуршат своей листвою.

Вот и ещё дня одного не стало,

Свои заботы он унёс с собою.

Как и тогда, до Рождества Христова,

Библейское пылит овечье стадо,

Всё на круги свои вернулось снова,

Синеет древних гор всё та ж громада.

Пастух всё тот же, та ж на нём овчина,

И лай собак долину оглашает,

Веками месят овцы ту же глину

И день за днём закаты провожают.

А мы всё ближе к тихому погосту…

Уходит стадо, блеют овцы тише,

Бегут века, костей белеет остов,

Горит закат, и небо алым дышит…






Il a une vieille èglise, cimetière du village

Et un corbeau assoupi sur la croix

Le bruit des cloches flotte sur la brise fraiche.

Une odeur d’ambre se rèpand autour de

La couronne d’arbres.

Une ètendue infinie a disparu dans le brouillard

Quel triste paysage rural…

Un cog marche le long d’une claie

Prêt à se battre avec les autres coqs;

Mais son adversaire dort paisiblement.

Je regarde autour de moi tristement:

Ici reposent le chagrin

De rêves roses brisèes,

Une vieille èglise, cimetière du village

Et un corbeau assoupi…






There is an old church, villadge cemetery

And a drowsy crow on the cross.

The sounds of bells are floating

In the cool freeze.

Amber is spread around the crown of trees,

An endless expanse has disappeared in the fog.

What a cheerless rural landscape…

The rooster moves along a wattle fence

Ready to fight with other cocks,

But his adversary is sleeping peacefully.

I look around sadly: here lies the sorrow

Of broken rosy dreams.

An old church, villadge cemetery

And a drowsy crow…






Церквушка старая, кладбище и ворона

Лениво дремлет, на кресте устроясь.

Всё замерло, уснуло, успокоясь,

Стих ветер, слышны колокольны звоны…

Везде янтарь рассыпался по кронам,

И в серой дымке растворились дали.

О боже, как мы от всего устали.

И суетных забот несметны тонны…

Там на плетне петух неугомонный

Зовёт на бой, свои вонзая шпоры,

Соседский кочет не вступает в споры,

Сидит он тихо, жизнью удручённый.

Гляжу на пожелтевшие я склоны,

Как они душу всю разбередили,

Вот она, скорбь растаявших идиллий,

Церквушка, кладбище, да сонная ворон







Je marche ressentant solennellement

Chque pierre sous les pieds. J’enfonce des pierres

Dans la terre et me dis:”je devrais avoir honte!

Ai-je le droit de mettre le pied sur ces pierres

Pour les écraser? Qui suis-je sinon un voyageur ègarè”

Je m’introduis dans leurs vies comme un voleur

Ici elles ont peut-être passè des milliers d’annèes

Sous la chaleur des rayuns du soleil sans jamais penser

Que par un jour sombre quelqu’un

Viendrait les frapper du pied.

Excusez-moi, s’il vous plait, mes silencieuse amies.

Vous êtes comme des hièroglyphes chinois pour moi.

Vous êtes un morceau d’èternitè, et je suis seulement

Un voyageur ègarè dans votre monde.






I walk solemnly feeling

Every stone under foot. I press stones

Into the ground and think: “Shame on me!

May I step rightfully on these stones

To crush them? Who am I?

Only a random wanderer.”

I intrude into their lives like a robber.

Here they spent perhaps thousands of years

Under the warm sunbeams never thinking

That on one black day someone

Will come and kick them!

Excuse me, please, my silent friends!

I don’t know anything about your life.

You are like a Chinese hieroglyphic for me.

You are a piece of eternity, and I am only

A random vagabond in your world…






Иду задумавшись я, по камням ступая,

И каждый камень чувствую стопою,

Их в землю вдавливаю, от стыда сгорая,

Они ж здесь вечно были под горою.

Согретые теплом тысячелетий,

Они уютно себе здесь лежали,

Не зная, что придут дни лихолетья,

Не думали, чтоб их ногой пинали!

Какое ж я тогда имею право,

Если спросить себя по-человечьи,

Пинать их то налево, то направо

И наносить телесные увечья?

Прости меня, пришелец незнакомый,

Как иероглиф вечности китайский,

Загадочен ты, я ж, судьбой ведомый,

Уйду навек…Живите, камни, дальше!




© Adolf P. Shvedchikov, PhD, LittD (RUSSIA)

International Poet of Merit

Traduits par Raymond Bath (BELGIQUE)





Je ne voudrais pas te voir verser des flots de larmes.

Je n’al pas besoin d’une passion violente.

Je hais les tonnerres et les éclairs.

Je ne veux pas avoir de querelle avec celle que j’aime.

J’aime tenir tes mains dans les miennes.

J’aimerais te considérer comme un don béni de Dieu.

J’aimerais te regarder droit dans les yeux afin d’ être sûr

Qu’ils ne me mentiront jamais.

Je veux espérer que le pont qui relie nos deux rives

Par dessus la riviére sera inébranlable

Pendant de nobreuses années.

J’espére que tu seras pour moi la manne

Qui tombe du ciel.

J’attends de toi que tu sois mon amour confiance.






I don’t want to see the streams of tears,

I don’t need the violent passion,

I don’t like the thunder and lightning,

I don’t want to have a falling-out with my beloved.

I like to be with you holding your hands,

I would like to have you as a gift blessed by God.

I would like to look at your eyes and be sure

That lies will never appear inside of them.

I hope that the bridge between the shores

Of our river will be reliable for many years.

I expect from you to be my manna from heaven,

I want from you, to be my reliable love!






Нет, не нужны мне бурные слёзы,

Потоки бешеных страстей.

Я не люблю ни гром, ни грозы,

Ни шум, ни хлопанье дверей!

Хочу я быть с тобою рядом

И пальцы рук твоих держать,

Чтоб ты явилась, как награда,

Сошла, как Божья Благодать!

Чтобы глаза струили ровно

Всегда любви надёжной свет,

Чтоб не распался мост на брёвна

И прослужил нам много лет.

Чтобы не знали мы обмана,

Чтоб честно прожили свой век,

Что ты была моим романом,

Мой самый близкий человек!







Le printemps n’est pas encore de retour.

Les champs sont toujours couverts de neige.

Pourtant la puissance dui s’y cache

Va bientôt s’éveiller.

Le coeur attend l’amour. Gardons l’espoir

Que le monde n’est pas fait que d’hypocrisie.

A tout moment, tu peux tomber amoureux.

A ce moment-là, tu es tellement confiant

Que tu mettrais ta tÍte

Dans la gueule d’un lion

Sans te demander si tu est sûr

Ou non de t’en tirer vivant.






Spring is not coming yet,

And the fields are covered by snow,

But the hidden force is awakening,

The heart awaits love.

Let’s believe that the world

Is not filled with false hoods.

Everytime you fall in love

You have such feelings

That you put your head

Into the mouth of a lion,

And you never knew for sure

Would you survive or not.






Ещё весна не наступила,

Ещё в полях томится снег,

Но пробудилась тайна сила,

И сердце ждёт любви утех.

Как снова хочется поверить,

Что в мире ведь не только ложь,

Что в мире есть не только звери,

Что не всегда вонзают нож!

От страха вечно замираешь:

Сомкнутся ль над тобой клыки,

Когда ты никогда не знаешь:

Не сочтены ль твои деньки?

Adolf P. Shvedchikov, PhD, LittD (RUSSO) / Traduzione di Giovanna Sciorio (ITALY) ; Anna Bruno (ITALY); Franco Coppola (AUSTRALIA)

 Adolf shvjedçikov

Adolf P. Shvedchikov, PhD, LittD (RUSSO)

Segnalazione di Merito

Traduzione di Giovanna Sciorio (ITALY) ;  Anna Bruno (ITALY); Franco Coppola (AUSTRALIA)


Scienziato russo, poeta e traduttore


 E nato 11 maggio 1937 a Shakty Russia, si e laureato all’Universita di Mosca nel 1955-1960. Dal 1961 lavora come scienziato all’Instituto di Chemical Physics, Accademia Russa di Scienze di Mosca. Ora lavora insieme con Pusatron Techology Corporation (Los Angeles, California, USA) in Air Pollution Control.

Ha publicato oltre 150 documentazioni scientifiche e attorno a 500 delle sue poesie in diverse Riviste  internazionali di Poesia in Russo, Stati Uniti, Brasile, India, Cina, Corea, Giappone, Italia, Malta, Spagna, Francia, Inghilterra e Australia. Le sue poesie sono state tradotte in Italiano, Spagnolo, Portoghese, Greco, Cinese, Giapponese e ein lingue Industane

E un distino Membro dell’International Society of Poets dal 1997. Membro dell’Internacional Committee of World Congress of Poets dal 2000 e membro dell’International Wrirers and Artists Association dal 2002. Ha  pubblicato e tradotto dal russo all’inglese tantissimi libri. E felice di essere un socio dell’Accademia Letteraria Italo-Australiana Scrittori dal 2004.

Adolf P. Shvedchikov `e anche conosciuto per le sue traduzioni di poesie Inglesi ( “150 Sonnetti Inglesi dei secoli XVI-XIX”. Mosca.1992. “Sonetti di Guglielmo Shakespeare”. Mosca. 1996). Ha inoltre tradotto poesie di tanti poeti moderni del Brasile, India, Italia, Stati Uniti, Inghilterra, Cina e Giaponne.




Dr. Adolf P. Shvedchikov, PhD, LittD (RUSSIA)

Russian scientist, poet and translator


Born May 11, 1937, Shakhty, Russia. Graduate 1960, Moscow  State University. Senior scientific worker at the Institute of Chemical Physics, Russian Academy of Sciences, Moscow. Chief of Chemistry, Pulsatron Technology Corporation, Los Angeles, CA, USA.

He published more than 150 scientific papers and about 500 of his poems in different International Magazines of Poetry in Russia, U. S. A. , Brazil, India, China, Korea, Japan, Italy, Malta, Spain, France, Greece, England and Australia. His poems have been translated into Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, Greek, Chinese, Japanese, and Hindi languages.

He is the Member of International Society of Poets, World Congress of Poets, International Association of Writers and Artists, A. L. I. A. S. (Associazione Letteraria Italo-Australiana Scrittori, Melbourne, Australia). Adolf P. Shvedchikov is known also for his translation of English poetry (“150 English  Sonnets of XVI-XIX Centuries”. Moscow.1992. “William Shakespeare. Sonnets.” Moscow. 1996) as well as translation of many modern poets from, Brazil, India, Italy, Greece, U. S. A., England, China and Japan.




Адольф Павлович Шведчиков

Российский учёный, поэт и переводчик


Родился 11 мая 1937 года в г. Шахты, Россия. В 1960 году окончил Московский государственный университет. Старший научный сотрудник Института химической физики Российской Академии наук, Москва. Главный химик фирмы Pulsatron Technology Corporation, Los Angeles, Calufornua, USA.

Им опубликовано свыше 150 научных статей и около 500 стихов в различных поэтических журналах России, США, Бразилии, Индии, Китая, Кореи, Японии, Мальты, Италии, Испании, Франции, Греции, Румынии, Албании, Англии и Австралии. Его стихи переведены на многие языки мира: английский, немецкий, французский, испанский, португальский, итальянский, греческий, румынский, албанский, японский, китайский и хинди.

Он является членом Международного Общества поэтов, Всемирного Конгресса поэтов, Международной Ассоциации писателей и художников, Литературной Итало-Австралийской Ассоциации (Мельбурн, Австралия). Адольф Шведчиков известен также переводами английской поэзии (150 английских сонетов XVI-XIX веков. Москва.1992. Уильям Шекспир. Сонеты. Москва. 1996.),а также переводами многих современных поэтов Англии, Бразилии, Индии, Италии, Греции, США, Китая и Японии.






Dammi il sopore dei tuoi occhi socchiusi,

Lasciami correre come una corrente nelle tue vene

Per raggiungere il tuo cuore, per dissolvermi in te,

Per sciogliermi come neve a primavera.

Vorrei sempre sentire la tua vivace e gentile risata

Che suona come una campana argentata.

Dammi una stilla di felicita,

Amami, mia diletta!



Give me a semi-drowsines of your half-closed eyes,

Let me run like a current in your veins

To reach your heart, to dissolve within you,

To melt like a spring snow.

I wish to hear always your playful and gentle laugh

Which sounds like a silver bell.

Give me a droplet of happiness, love me, my darling!



Подари полудрёму своих полу сомкнутых век

И по венам твоим дай мне сладостным мёдом растечься,

Влиться в сердце мне дай, дай навеки тобою обжечься,

Раствориться в тебе и растаять, как мартовский снег.

Я хочу, чтобы твой шаловливый и ласковый смех

Привлекал и манил шаловливым своим переливом,

Не гони, дай побыть мне хотя бы немного счастливым,

Приголубь, отогрей ярым жаром любовных утех!




Smarrito fra colline, alberi e incolti prati

Mi sentivo come úinvisibile

Piccola parte di un mondo infinito.

Improvvisamente capii di essere

Una piccolissima parte di questa materia

Non sono zero, sono una parte

Di questa vastitè vivente nell’armonia

Con questa enorme incomprensibilita.

Fui felice, fuli pieno di lacrime di gioia!




Being lost among hills, trees and wild grasses

I felt an invisible small part of endless world.

Suddenly I understood

That being a tiny piece of this matter

I am not zero, I am a part

Of this vastness living in the harmony

With this huge incomprehensibility.

I was happy, I was full of blissful tears!




Среди холмов, деревьев, диких трав

Частицею незримой затерялся,

Я на границе двух миров остался,

В объятья беспредельного упав…

Премудростей земного не познав,

Спасительной не отыскавши веры,

Блаженно слёзы лью без всякой меры,

И укрощаю непокорный нрав.

Кто мне ответит, прав я иль неправ?

Насытившись и светом, и громами,

Я с бытием теперь дружу домами,

Навеки частью мирозданья став!







Lascia venire la pioggia del tuo amore

Per dissetare la mia grande arsura!

Lascia scorrere fiumi impetuosi

Dalle correnti

Spazzando via ogni cosa!

Lascia che il mio cuore batta violentemente ancora!

Sono pronto ad immergermi

Nelle profondit à del tuo amore!




Let the rain of your love come

To quench my thirst for the wilderness!

Let wild river run

From the heights

Sweeping away everything!

Let my heart beat again violently!

I am ready to drown

In the depths of your love!




Пусть дождь любви твоей прольётся

И утолит пустыни жажду,

Пусть хлынет ливень,

Пусть однажды

Вновь сердце бешено забьётся!

Пускай с горы несутся реки,

Всё на пути своём сметая,

О, вызов твой я принимаю,

Готов тонуть в тебе навеки!




Oh, mia sensibile anima,

Stiamo vagando intorno al mondo

Sotto il sollegiato cielo blu.

Essendo lieto quando il tempo è cosi bello.

Lasciando dietro molte miglia, le nostre vite.

Siamo seduti su una pietra del nostro sentiero

Pensando a come siamo solitari,

E Dio è troppo occupato per aiutarci.

Non so quanto lungo sarà il nostro cammino,

Quante albe rivedremo ancora?

Smetti di essere triste

Non possiamo cambiare il corso delle stagioni…




Oh, my sensitive soul,

We are roaming about the world

Under the sunny blue sky

Being joyful when the weather is so nice.

Leaving behind many miles of our lives

We are sitting on the stone of our pathway

Thinking how longsome we are,

And God is too busy to help us.

I don’t know how long our way will be,

How many dawns will we see again?

Let us stop to be sad,

We cannot change the run of seasons…



О, моя ранимая душа,

Всё бредём с тобой  по белу свету,

Радуемся солнышку, при этом

Говорим: погодка хороша!

Прошагав по жизни столько верст,

Сядем на обочине дороги,

Знать, душа, одни с тобой, как перст,

Что-то не спешат на помощь боги.

Долго ль будем так с тобой шагать,

Много ли встречать ещё рассветов?

Попусту что зря нам унывать,

Всё равно конец приходит лету…





Abbraciando i fantasmi della realta

Viviamo parzialmente in un altro mondo.

Dov´ è il limite fra la realtà e l´illusione?

Stiamo fluttuando lungo il Fiume del Tempo

E improvvisamente sveliamo i nostri sentimenti

Che il più remoto intorno a noi

Non è cosi denso come prima.

Siamo nella realtà nebulosa tra la vita e la morte.

Ci sono troppedomande senza risposte.

Il nostro mondo è reale o illusorio?




Embracing ghosts of reality we live partly in another world.

Where is the limit between reality and illusion?

We are floating along the river of time

And suddenly reveal our feelings

That the forest around us is not so dense as before.

We are in the fog of reality between life and death.

There are too many questions without answers.

Is our world real or illusory?




Обнимая призраки реального,

В мире мы живём совсем ином,

И не знаем, навсегда ль умрём,

Или избежим конца печального.

Неизвестность…Где же тот предел,

И куда уносит нас течением,

Замечаем только с удивлением,

Что лесок вокруг-то поредел…

Жизнь и смерть, реальности туман,

Вечные вопросы не кончаются,

Жизнь-калейдоскоп всё продолжается…

В чём же фокус, что, наш мир – обман?



Lasciami tenere la tua mano tremante,

Lasciami sentire il tuo cuore battere.

Sei sensibile, sei elegante,

Una principessa di neve pura nel Paese delle meraviglie!

Sciogliamo lo strato di ghiaccio,

Lasciami baciare le tue voluttuose labbra,

Lasciami toccare i tuoi abbondanti fianchi,

Sei meravigliosa, sei graziosa!

Sorgi dal tuo pesante sonno e vola,

Cantiamo una solare canzone d´amore.

Oh, mia incantevole, mia tenera colomba

Che fluttui silenziosamente nel cielo!




Let me hold your trembling hand,

Let me feel your fluttering heart,

You are sensitive, you are smart,

A snow-white princess from Wonderland!

Let’s melt an every layer of ice,

Let me kiss your voluptuous lips,

Let me touch your abundant hips,

You are wonderful, you are nice!

Rise from weary slumber and fly,

Let’s sing a sunny song of love,

Oh, my charming, my tender dove

Floating soundlessly in the sky!




Люблю твои я трепетные руки

И сердца беспокойного биенье,

В стане чудес живу я, без сомненья,

Испытывая сладостные муки!

Все льды ты недоверья растопила,

И о тебе я помню неустанно.

Жар помню губ твоих и гибкость стана,

О, господи, как ты меня любила!

Пой песнь любви, голубушка, воркуя,

С тобою вместе в небо мы взлетаем

И там парим, от счастья умираем…

Незабываемая нежность поцелуя!






Sedendo sui ciottoli della spiaggia

Guardo l´agitare dell ònda

Sapendo che non posso raggiunere

Sapendo che non posso salvare

Quel mistero occulto dentro

Le tue profondit à, oh, mare ribelle,

Quanto ancora devo sopportare

Per risolvere questo enigma chi siamo noi?




Sitting on pebbles at the beach

Looking at the rolling wave

I know I cannot reach,

I know I cannot save

That mystery hidden inside

Of your depths, oh, rebellious sea,

How long do we have to abide

Solving that puzzle who are we?




Сижу на пляже, галькою играя,

Гляжу, как бьют неугомонно волны…

Всех тайн морских так и не разгадаю,

Свой кладезь мудрости ничем я не пополню.

О, море грозное, тебя я вопрошаю:

Что ты ещё хранишь в своих глубинах?

Кто ты, откуда, так и не узнаю,

И канут тайны все в  твоих сединах…




Parlò con le fredde stelle

Cui dono il suo povero cuore.

le stelle presero il suo cuore,

E lei diventò una gelida

Bella addormentata.

La risvegliera il principe della cometa?




She spoke with the cold stars

And gave them her poor heart.

The stars took her heart,

And she became an icy sleeping beauty.

Will the prince come back  

To wake her up?




 О чём-то со звёздами ты говорила,

О чём их просила ночною порою?

Светилам ты сердце своё подарила,

Меня позабыла, оставив в покое…

И звёзды горячее сердце забрали,

И тело холодное стало, как лёд…

Как жалко, что близкими так и не стали,

Кто к жизни теперь королеву вернёт?





Svegliati! Togli le manette di Morfeo!

E dammi il fuoco della tua passione!

Lasciami bere lúltimo dolce sorso

Di vino amoroso!

Sei la mia adorabile ragazza,

Dammi un´impetuosa onda di gioia!

A scolta il suono del flauto magico.

Colma il tuo cuore d´amore!




Wake up!

Take off the shakles of Morpheus

And give me fire of your passion!

Let me drink the last sweet gulp

Of amorous wine!

You are my charming girl,

Give me the heat wave of joy!

Listen to the sound of the magic flute,

Fill your heart with love!




Очнись от сладостного сна,

Морфея путы разрывая,

Прижмись ко мне ты, дорогая,

Весь жар страстей отдай до дна!

Глоток любовного вина

Позволь отведать на прощанье,
Ты вся – само очарованье,

Огня влекущая волна!

Пускай волшебная струна

Далёким эхом отзовётся,

Пусть сердце трепетно забьётся,

Моей любовью будь полна!


©Adolf P. Shvedchikov, PhD, LittD(RUSSIA)

International Poet of Merit

Traduzione di Anna Bruno(ITALY)



Il cuore s´avvicina alla gioia

Ma non la raggiunge mai.

Porte e finestre sono chiuse,

La tristezza s´arrampica nel tuo cuore.

I giorni corrono e corrono, non te ne curi…

La strada sta svanendo

E le tue orme scompariranno

Tra la neve…




The heart approaches joy

But never reaches it.

Doors and windows are closed,

Sadness climbs into your heart.

Days run and run, you don’t care…

The way is fading

And your traces will disappear

Among the snow…







Сердце к радости лишь приближается,

Но её не достичь всё равно,

Закрывается плотно окно,

В дверь стучишь, она не открывается…

Твоё сердце страдает и мается,

Дни бегут, как бежали давно,

Всё бледней и бледней полотно,

Средь снегов санный след затеряется…





Ubriaco del profumo di un pino

Bacio le tue labbra seducenti,

L´oceano dei beati sentimenti.

Quest´ è una delizia dal paradiso,

Onda dopo onda sta avanzando.

Forse questa felicità non cessera mai!

Ti prego rimani con me un momento ancora,

Amami appassionantamente!




Drunk with the smell of a pine

I kiss your seductive lips.

This is delight from paradise,

The ocean of blissful feelings.

Wave after wave is coming,

Perhaps this happiness will never cease!

Please stay with me one moment more,

Love me passionately!




Опьянённый запахом сосны,

Я целую твои руки нежные,

Райские, томительные сны,

Чувств высоких океан безбрежный…

Пусть волна сменяется волной,

Никогда не кончится блаженство.

Ты ещё чуть-чуть побудь со мной,

Вот она, вершина совершенства!







Ricordo quel tramonto.

Prendemmo posto vicino al mare

E guardammo le grigie onde.

Era la fine del nostro amore.

Ci separammo.

Non ci avviciammo

Mai più l´uno all´altra.

Tu eri troppo terrena,

Io ero violento e incapace profeta.

Scegliemmo strade diverse…




I remember that sunset.

We sat down near the sea

And looked at the grey waves.

It was the end of our love.

We separated.

We never became

Close to each other again.

You were too terrestrial,

I was violent and unpredictable.

We choosen different paths…




День угасал, и заря догорала,

Мы на скамейке у моря сидели,

Грустно на тёмные волны глядели,

Близилась ночь, и любовь умирала.

Оба молчали мы и понимали,

Что наступает минута прощанья,

Долгое нам предстоит расставанье,

Близкими сердцем мы так и не стали.

Была ты земной и хотела земного,

Не принимала моих ты метаний,

Не понимала души моей тайной,

Разной идти нам с тобою дорогой.





Oh tu onda beffarda

Perché  stai giocando con me, perché?

Emozionante per un istante, scivoli fuori.

E completamente soddisfata,

Corri via senza una scia.

Oh come mi piace oltre misura

La tua incoerenza e disubbidienza.

La tua perfidia ed affettazione

Quando mi sussuri: attento,

Ti puoi perdere nelle mie fermminili profondita!




Oh you teasing wave,

Why are you playing with me, why?

Touching for a moment, you are slipping out.

And being pleased in full,

You are running away without a trace.

O how I enjoy beyond measure

Your inconsistency and disobedience,

Your treachery and affectation,

When you are whispering: be careful,

You may sink into my female depths!




О ты, дразнящая волна,

Зачем со мною так играешь,
Едва коснувшись, ускользаешь,

И шалой радости полна,

Навек бесследно исчезаешь.
О, как безмерно я люблю

Твой норов и непостоянство,

Твоё коварство и жеманство,

Когда ты шепчешь: утоплю








Sono cosi grato al mio destino

Perchè l angelo dell Amore mi ha toccato.

Non ti dimenticherò mai, mio amato

Angelo celestiale, angelo terrestre.

Ti recordero per tutta la mia vita,

E tu non sarai mai solo.

La Morte è impotente perche la Vita ci ha unito,

Mio amato angelo celestiale, angelo terrestre.




I am so thankful to my fate

Because the angel of Love touched me.

I’ll never forget you, my beloved

Celestial angel, terrestrial angel.

I’ll remember you all my life,

And you will never stay alone.

Death is powerless because Life united us,

My beloved celestial angel, terrestrial angel.




Я благодарен судьбе до могилы,

Ангел любви пролетел надо мной,

Не позабудется образ твой милый,

Ангел небесный, ангел земной!

Помню всю жизнь, и пока что есть силы,

Век я с тобою, не будешь одной,

Смерть, ты бессильна, нас жизнь породнила,

Ангел небесный, мой ангел земной!





©Adolf  P. Shvedchikov, PhD,LittD(RUSSIA)

International Poet of Merit

Traduzione di Franco Coppola(AUSTRALIA)




Inebriato dell’odore del pino

Bacio le tue labbra allettanti

Questa è una delizia dal paradiso,

L’oceano dei beati sensi,

Ogni ondata viene da altre seguita

Forse questa gioia mai finir portà!

Ti prego resta con me per un istante ancora,

Amami appassionatamente!




Drunk with the smell of a pine

I kiss your seductive lips.

This is a delight from paradise,

The ocean of blissful feelings.

Wave after wave is coming,

Perhaps this happiness will never cease!

Please stay with me one moment more,

Love me passionately!




Опьянённый запахом сосны,

Я целую твои губы нежны,

Райские, томительные сны,

Чувств высоких океан безбрежный…

Пусть волна сменяется волной,

Никогда не кончится блаженство,

Ну ещё чуть-чуть побудь со мной,

Вот она, вершина совершенства!




Frammenti di luce rosa saltellano sulle mura.

Il sole scarlatto affonda. Viene la notte.

L’arsura si è placata, gli uccelli han finito

L’ultimo canto, intorno regna silenzio e calma…



Pink patches of light are jumping on the walls.

A scarlet sun is sinking. Night is coming.

Everything is quenched. A bird has finished

His last song. Silence and calm are everywhere…



Алые блики по стенам играют,

Медленно рыжее солнце садится.

Ночь приближается, всё замирает,

Всё затихает, всё гаснет, томится.

День отошёл, засветилась лампада,

Песню вечернюю птица пропела,

Дай насладиться последней руладой,

Ночь надвигается, жизнь пролетела…







Я – дух гармонии, блуждающий в веках.

Влюблённых звёздной пылью осыпая,

Я вечно странствую и никогда не знаю,

Проснутся ль души на свой риск и страх?

И заиграет ли на жаждущих губах

Улыбка, вся наполненная светом,

Пахнёт ли снова ярым жаром лета

Иль обратится в пепел всё и прах?

Заголубеет ли Земля в твоих глазах,

Коснётся ль нас с тобой перо Жар – птицы,

И если суждено тому случиться,

В каких, скажи, гореть любви кострах?

И на каких тебя носить руках,

Возлюбленная, мне тогда прикажешь,

Златою цепью навсегда ли свяжешь

Иль растворишься дымкою в горах?

Единого крыла единый взмах,

Не рассуждая, головою в омут!

Какие струны  сердце твоё тронут,

В каких уснёшь блаженных ты мечтах?
Я – дух гармонии, я вечности очаг!

Неведомые Женщина – Мужчина.

Связующая вас я половина,

Я – ОГНЬ ЛЮБВИ на трепетных устах!







La luna gallegia come una caravella muta

Lungo la nera ardesia del sielo.

Sento it dolore di una creatura scordata

Fra questo silenzio infitito.




The moon floats like a mute caravel

Along the slate-black sky.

I feel the pain of a forgotten creature

Among this endless silence.




Плывёт луна безмолвной каравеллой

По мертвенному аспидному небу.

Забвенья боль безжизненного тела,

И тишина…Будто никто здесь не был…






La natura si è concentrata su dite.

Ti diede un dono meraviglioso.

Sei sempre bella, in ogni stagione!

A tuoi capelli sembrano d’ambra,

Le tue guancie rosee, come una mela matura.

Lo sguardo dei tuoi occhi

Mi ha ferito al cuore

Tutto di te e ben proporzionato.

Incontrari è una gioia.

Sei una creatura stupenda

Plasmata dalle mani di Dio!




Nature concentrated on you.

It gave you a wonderful gift.

You are so nice every season!

Your hair looks like amber,

Your cheeks are pink like a ripe apple.

The glance of your eyes

Pierced my heart.

Everything about you is becoming.

Everyone meets you with joy.

You are a beautiful creature

Fashioned from God’s hands!




Сконцентрировалась на тебе природа,

Светлым тебя даром одарила,

Выглядишь в любое время года

Ты такой прелестною и милой!

Волосы янтарным златом светят,

Раскраснелись, заалели щёки,

Где такой, скажите, есть на свете

Взгляд проникновенный и глубокий?

Всё тебе к лицу и всё сияет,

Соком налились пунцовы вишни,

Все тебя приветливо встречают,

Создал, знать, не зря тебя Всевышний!





Ti seguo come un puma

E penso solamente a te,

Ti cerco dappertutto,

Sono pazzo di te!

Spero, per un tuo sguardo,

Ma sento, una sonora risata gioconda

Non cerco altro premio,

Voglio seguire solamente te!

Non posso accettare che tu sei

La moglie di un’altro!




I follow you like a puma

Thinking only about you,

Looking for you everywhere,

I am crazy about you!

I hope for your glance,

I hear your happy-go-lucky laugh.

I don’t need another award,

I want only to follow you!

I cannot accept that you are

The wife of another!







Я крадусь за тобой, как пума,

Осторожно ступаю след в след,

Поглощён лишь единственной думой,

О, любви лихорадочный бред!

Я ловлю мимолётные взгляды,

Беззаботный твой слушаю смех,

И другой мне награды не надо,

Бесконечный, бессмысленный бег!

Всё никак не могу я смириться,

Что другому навек отдана,

Так и будешь теперь только сниться,





Lo vuoi sapere come ti amo?

Non posso trovare la parola giusta, quella unica

Parola si mirabile forse che la conosce solo Iddio,

No, non ce ne sono tante, solo poche

Che mantengono la freschezza di rugiada mattutina

E una prolungata fede, durante il regno della notte

Quando la tua fede è tremolante come luce di candela

E quando tu sei pronta a dire addio…

Vorrei trovare uno scalpello per intagliare

Quella parola d’amore ch’ è dura come un sasso.

Vorrei innalzare questa parola su di un trono d’oro

E poi dare un ordine di intessere

Questa parola nei nuovi vestiti di moda

E dire a questa favolosa parola di toccare

Il tuo cuore, allora tu potrai renderti conto, quanto

E con quale ardore io ti amo!




Do you want to know how I love you?

I cannot find that unique, proper word,

Such wondrous words perhaps only known by God,

There are not a lot of them, only a few

Which keep the freshness of a morning dew,

A lingering hope during the reign of night

When your faith is flickering like candle-light

And when you are ready to say adieu…

I would like to find a chisel to hew

That word of love which is hard like a stone,

And raise this word to a golden throne,

Then I will give an order to endure

This word into clothes, fashionable and new.

I will say this amazing word to touch

Your heart, and you will realize how much

And how ardently I love you!




Ты хочешь знать, как я люблю тебя?

Слов уникальных я найти не смог,

Наверное, их может только Бог

Послать нам редкой капелькой дождя.

Немного их, но свежесть в них росы,

Надежда в них, когда так душит ночь,

Свеча чуть теплится, и вряд  ли кто помочь

Нам может в эти трудные часы.

Надёжную кирку бы мне найти,

Из камня чтоб слова  любви тесать,

И кремень-слово что б тебе сказать,

На трон позолочённый возвести!

Парчою дорогой его одеть,

Коснуться нежно сердца твоего,

А больше и не нужно ничего,

Лишь песнь любви успеть тебе пропеть!





Giorno dopo giorno senza sostegno

La natura compie un lavoro scrupoloso.

Uno vien rubato e un altro gode

Dal tempo crudele, l´uccello rapace.

Per essere protetto tu devi pagare

E per la tua vita il prezzo `e alto

In ogni istante un coltello assassino

Può presentarsi davanti il cammino

Quando arriva quel giorno funesto.

Ti smarrirai dal gregge maestro

Quando il vascello della tua vita

Sconquassata sbatte sulla roccia

Non sparger pianto, prega soltanto.




Day after day without stay

Nature performs a thorough job.

One is pleased, the other is robbed

By cruel time, the bird of prey.

To be protected you must pay

A high penalty for your life,

Every moment a murderous knife

May suddenly spring on the way…

And when it comes, that gloomy day,

You will stray from the hearded flock,

When your life’s tattered boat strikes a rock

Don’t shed the tears and only pray!




День за днём безостановочно бежит,

И природа вечно за работой,

Кто-то веселится, на кого-то

Время чёрным вороном летит.

Никогда оно, увы, не спит,

За день жизни требует заранее

С каждого такой огромной дани,

И разбойник за углом стоит…

Если же неумолимый рок

Шутку злую всё-таки сыграет,

Лодку жизни на скалу бросает,

Слёз не лей, молись, поможет Бог!






Oh mio pensiero irrequieto e provocante,

Tu che vaghi prudente fra contrasti,

Tu che fiducia non hai e sei dubbioso

Ci soffri quando tutto viene al nulla.

Qualche volta, dici a te stesso; che dovresti

Considerare il tutto e di, revisionare,

A volte scopri una sorpresa inaspettata,

E sorridente tu commenti: buona, questa battuta

Ma quando per sfortuna sei incastrato

Da un´ insidiosa trappola celata

Insisti per trovarne via d´uscita,

Perchè  tu, pensiero mio maestro

Vuoi esser vincitor!




My restless provoking thought,

You are wandering catiuosly among contrasts,

You are in doubt, you never trust,

You suffer when everything comes to naught.

Sometimes you say to yourself: you ought

To reconsider all, to revise,

At times you make an unexpected surprise,

Smiling you comment: it is finely wrought!

And when you by accident are suddenly caught

By a carefully disguised treacherous trap,

You are trying insistently to find a gap,

So you’ll be a winner, my masterful thought!




Вряд  ли пыл твой, мысль, я утолю.

Сотканная из противоречий,

Иногда теряешь ты дар речи,

Когда жизнь вдруг сводится к нулю.

В тяжкий час себе я говорю:

Не спеши, всё приведи в порядок,

Верь, ещё наступит миг тот сладок,

Когда чудо снова сотворю!

Трепетные чувства подарю,

Не беда, что вновь попал в ловушку,

Не беда, что снова взят на пушку,

Мысль крылатая, я всё ещё творю!






Quando la tua voce si dilegua

Il suono vibra ancora

E nella tua memoria, si modula e martella.

Non posso ritornare indietro nel passato

Questo è il mio fato…

Il mio animo, come un cielo invernale

Non ha colore…

Nell´aria gelida sento la voce tua gentile

Spesso la vita `e crudele,

Ma non ho altra scelta

Di spiegare le mie ali appesantite

E ancor volare.




When your voice fades

The sound still vibrates

In your memory, it beats and modulates.

I cannot to the past return, that is my fate…

My soul is like a colorless wintery sky…

In the frosty air I hear your tender voice.

Life is often cruel, and I have no choice

To spread my leaden wings again and fly.




Когда твой голос угасает,

Ещё дрожит, трепещет звук,

Ослабевает он и вдруг

Навеки разом пропадает.

Душа, как зимний небосклон…

Твой голос в памяти остался,

Я с небом ясным распрощался,

Опали крылья, жизнь, как сон…







Menestrelli di tristezza, menestrelli di allegria,

Avete cantato le vostre canzoni di gioia e di dolore,

Bizzarri menestrelli, voi eravate i gong e le nostre campane,

A volte voi siete apparsi come dei sulla terra!

Spiegando le vostre ali di neve

Avete da soli librato nella luce turchese

E gli esseri umani eccitati ne seguirono il volo,

Le vostre parole sublimi hanno toccato dell´animo le corde,

Ma, miriadi di menestrelli hanno subito un triste fato,

Sono vissuti e morti sconosciuti: uno per uno,

Mai furono loro, della gloria del sole guastati

E mai nessuno, li dichiarò  grandi o rinomati

Oh, glorioso paradiso apri il tuo cancello e

Fa entrare i menestrelli tutti, poveri e ricchi,

Dai a loro ancora un´occasione per stregare

L´animo della gente, non `e  mai troppo tardi!




The bards of sadness, the bards of mirth,

You have sung your joyful and sorrowful songs.

Weird bards, you were our bells and gongs,

Sometimes you seemed like gods on earth!

Spreading your snowy gleaming wings

You have soared alone in the turquois light,

Excited human beings followed your flight,

Your sublime words touched the soul’s strings.

But miriad bards had a terrible fate,

They passed on unknown, one by one,

Never became spoiled by the glory’s sun,

And nobody called them renowned or great.

Oh, glorious Heaven, open your gate,

Admit all bards, both poor and rich,

Give them another chance to bewitch

The souls of people, it is not yet too late!




О, барды радости, печали,

Как много песен вы пропели,

Лаская соловьиной трелью,

Богами вы земными стали.

Расправив свои белы крылья,

Небесным ангелом летали,

Все, слышавшие вас, рыдали,

Катились слёзы в изобилии.

Но и другие барды были,

О них мы ничего не знали,

Венками их не украшали,

На пьедестал не возводили.

О, Небеса, откройте двери,

К себе всех бардов пригласите,

Почёт им равный окажите,

И каждый пусть в себя поверит!






Viene l’autunno, un’ordinaria stagione piovosa,

Tutto nel passato rimprovera le lacrime insonni,

Il mio umore impaurito svanisce completamente,

Non voglio essero povero, qual è la ragione?

Non me la prendo pi`u riguardo a serti tradimenti,

Non potrò cambriare l’essenza seduttiva umana,

Perché  dovrei perdere il mio buon senso?

Viene l’autunno, una stagione mite e serena…





The autumn comes, an ordinary rainy season,

All in the past: reproaches, sleepless tears,

My fear-stricken mood completely disappears,

I dont want to be poor, whats the reason?

I dont care anymore about certain treason,

I cannot change the human seductive essence,

Why do I need to lose my common sense?

The autumn comes, a meek and serene season…







Приходит осень с хмурыми дождями,

Остались в прошлом все упрёки, слёзы,

О, господи, какая жизни проза,

Да что же это делается с нами?

Я не хочу знать про твои измены

И смыслу здравому всецело доверяюсь,

Во всём обман, ну что я зря стараюсь,

Нет, не нужны нам больше эти сцены…


Adolf shvjedçikov


  Përkthyer nga  Vangjush Ziko (Canada)



Adolf P. Shvedçikov është një nga poetët bashkëkohës rusë i përkthyer në disa gjuhë evropiane dhe aziatke. Muza e tij lirike ec e frymëzuar në rrugën e traditës poetike klasike ruse të poezisë realiste metrike dhe ritmike, që rikrijon poetikisht situata thellësisht shpirtërore dhe humane, poezi e cila në plan të parë ve ndjenjën dhe përjetimin njerëzor të veshur me një figuracion të pasur, ndërsa deduksioni filozofik vjen i përjetuar dhe i mishëruar në filozofinë konkrete të përditshmërisë jetësor dhe jo nëpërmjet meditimit dhe abstragimit të mirëfilltë racional.

Adolf Shvedçikovi është një shpirt i frymëzar dhe i shqetësuar për fatin e njeriut dhe të ëndrrës së tij të thellë humane, për fatin e botës dhe të dashurisë së pastër njerëzore. Ai ka zgjedhur poezinë, instrumentin më të brishtë artistik të artit të fjalës, për të transmetuar mesazhet e veta morale dhe estetike. Ai ka botuar deri më sot 10 vëllime poetike, të cilët janë përkthyer në anglisht, italisht, spanjisht, greqisht, gjermanisht, rumanisht, në gjuhën kineze.

Si përkthyes, ai ka përkthyer poezi nga gjuhë të ndryshme, midis të cilave edhe Sonetet e Shekspirit në gjuhën ruse.

Nga formimi i tij universitar dhe nga profesioni i tij, ai është një inxhinier doktor në fushën e kimisë fizike, që ka botuar 150 studime shkencore dhe, aktualisht, ai punon si kryespecialist i fushës së vet në një Korporate prestigjioze në Los Angeles të Kalifornisë.

Adolf Shvedçikovi është anëtar i disa shoqatave botërore si Shoqatës së Poetëve Botërorë dhe Kongresit Botëror të Poetëve.

Po u sjell një tufë poezish të përkthyera prej meje nga origjinali rusisht.


 Poezi të shqipëruara nga Vangjush Ziko  ( Canada)







Kur un’ të kthehm qull, i raskapitur

Me rrobat copë, lyer tërë baltë.

Mbi botë do të kthehem unë sërishmi

Dhe do besoj se jam akoma gjallë.

Kur t’ i jap fund shtegtimit t’ invalidit

Edhe në strehën time do fut kokën,

Do ta kuptoj se thellë shpirtit

Ka mbetur mirësi dhe fjal’ e Zotit.

Kur unë të kthehem lodhur, i dërmuar,

Përgjysmë ta kem humbur çdo besim,

Të lutem, mëmë tokë, drithëruar

Me pakëz ngrohtësi ti më mbështill.








Çudi. Në perëndimin tim të ditës

Mendim’ i thjeshtë më ndriçoi.

E hoqa qafe mendjen e mërritur,

Jeta veç të mira më dhuroi.

Me zhurm’ e zemërim seç u ronitën

Të fshehtat e jetës dhe të varrit.

Në perëndimin tim të ditës

Në duart time ndrit thesari.

S’ e kam për vete për ta mbajtur,

Këtë thesar kujt unë do t’ ia le.

Shpërndava nëpër botë diamantët,

Për mirë të kujtohem përmbi dhe’.








Qeni i panjohur më vështron.

Tund bishtin aspak miqësisht.

S’ hungurin. Të ndeshet s’ kërkon.

Nën kaçube sytë po m’ i ndrit.

Po të shoh në syt’ e tu prej qeni,

S’ të përgjigjem. Inat s’ të marr.

Të dy qenër bashkë jemi,

Dimë ç’ është ngrica në janar.

U vështruam sy në sy ne gjatë,

Mur’ i fshehtë midis nesh qëndron.

Filli i hollë na lidh ne bashkë,

Por qëndrim’ i ndryshëm na veçon.








Trishtohem. Bajamja çeli lule.

Hëna ëndrrimtare po ndriçon.

Gati të thërres unë aliluja!

Eja ti, bajamja lulëzon!

Si yll i ndritur shfaqu para meje,

Me lartësit’ qiellore më magjeps.

Po çel bajamja, ti rrëmbeje,

Koh’ e dashurisë eterne erdh.








Kur plak të bëhem, hipmë në kanoe

Dhe nismë si indianin për lundrim.

Fatit qetë do t’ i dorëzohem

Të mbytem larg në mjegullim.

Në valët e përjetshme duke zhdukur,

Një këngë pikëllimi do këndoj.

Në cep të kozmosit të strukur

Takohemi sistemit diellor.








Më doli para si në ëndërr,

Si një çudi m’ u shfaq ajo.

Në mes mështeknash të argjëndta

Me hir’ e Zotit më ndriçoi.

Kupola e florinjtë flakëronte

Nga dielli duke perënduar.

Bronxi i këmbanave kumbonte’

Mbi dhe’ çdo gjë u shenjtërua.








Jeta kalimthi të dhuron

Dhe shi, dhe erë të tërbuar.

Çdo çast të vitit ti beso

Çdo gjë të bën të mrekulluar.

Prej mijra çastesh bëhet jeta,

Mijra minutash që s’ harrohen,

Përzierje ëndrrash e betejash

Dhe ngazëllimesh dashurore.

Lot është jeta e rënkime,

I dashurisë vrull dhe zjarr.

Mos i kërko jetës premtime,

Ajo me ne nuk bën pazar.

Kur të më thotë lamtumirë

Dhe kur të bëhem unë asgjë,

Do shkrihem qetë me përjetësinë,

Asgjë nuk do na lidhë më.








E di. Një shpirt i vetmuar në botë

Endet i verbër si një kotele.

Nuk qenkam vetë që më të kotë

Endem me akullin në zemër.

S’ qenkam i vetëm që fije kashte

Shtërngoj me dorë që mos mbytem.

Që po marr frymë unë kaq vrazhdët,

S’ qenkam i vetëm që po ndryshkem.

Kini mëshirë, më tregoni pakëz

Të varfr’ e të pangopurit ç’ i bashkon.

Çdo ditë vrasin të pafajshëm.

Nga mokr’ e jetës askush s’ shpëton.








Le të kullojë shiu yt i dashurisë

Dhe etjen shkretëtirës t’ ia shuaj.

Një herë vetëm kaq stuhishëm

Të rrahë zemra ime në krahruar.

Përrenjtë të vërshojnë që nga malet

Me vrull të papërmbajtur pa kufi,

S’ i trembet sfidës sate çmendurake

I yti jam përjetë, Dashuri.

Takimet letrare “Azem Shkreli -2013 ” në Gjermani

azem shkreli

Takimet letrare “Azem Shkreli -2013 ” në Gjermani



            nga : Silvana Berki

U gjenda përpara një përgjegjësie për pjesëmarrjen time në takimin letrar ”Azem Shkreli” në Gjermani. Kjo, jo për arsyen sepse duhej të përgatisja ndonjë fjalim se unë s`para i pëlqej shumë ato,  por që të merrja pjesë në një event të tillë ku emri për të cilin do të celebrohej ishte një nga figurat më të shquara të Kosovës më bëri të parehat.  Ditët kishte kohë që më fluturonin përpara meje dhe unë dukej sikur mundohesha duke gulcuar ti kapja nga mbrapa në pamundësi të ecja përpara tyre. Ashtu më gjeti edhe e enjtja ku me shqetësim kujtova se duhej të shfletoja pak më shumë mbi jetën dhe veprimtarinë e poetit.

Mbasi përfundova poezinë për nder të Tij, vura re se ora ishte 01.20 dhe disa orë dhe do të nisesha për punë, e mbas pune drejt në aeroport të Tamperes. Dita tjetër fluturoi si gjithë të tjerat dhe në mbrëmje të po asaj dite u gjënda së fundi në Gjermani dhe pikërisht në Koblenz. Sa ftohtë që ishte! Unë isha veshur si për ditë vere sepse për cudinë më të madhe, e lashë verën mbrapa atje në skandinavinë time, ndërsa aty mund të ishte temperatura 5°, meqënëse mua nuk më bëjnë shumë përshtypje të ftohtët…por nuk isha përgatitur ndaj ndjeva një rrënqetje në trup me të dalë në ambient jashtë.

Ja erdhi edhe e shtuna. Eventi letrar filloi me prezantimin e jetës së z. Shkreli, nga familja por edhe nga bashkatdhetarët mërgimtarë. Salla ishte e mbushur dhe i shikoja me vëmendje përkushtimin e cdo fjale të thënë mbi heroin shqiptar në mëndjet e pjesëmarrësve. Tek-tuk ndonjë zë fëmije dëgjohej diku, gjë që e bënte më të gjallë atmosferën. Ajo që më bëri përshtypje ishte videoja ku u prezantua një fjalim i z. Azem Shkreli. Aty i dëgjova zërin për herë të parë, mendimet që shprehte popullit të tij ku ndër të tjera më kapi veshi ” Ne duam shtet? Atëherë, le të punojmë me vepra për të. Ne jemi nacionalistë verbal, vetëm me llafe, ndërsa nacionalizmi i vërtet duhet me punë, me vepra”. Pak a shumë këto ishin mendimet e Tij. Ai fliste me gjithë shpirt për ndërgjegjësimin e popullit të tij, duke e treguar hapur mendimin për të metat dhe ato që pengonin fatin e popullit të tij të ecte përpara.
Diku, dëgjova historinë edhe për vdekjen e tij të befasishme. Ai vdiq në moshë akoma të re dhe pikërisht në një kohë që pjekuria e Tij i duhej akoma më shumë kombit të vet. Sa shumë kujtime shfaqën poetët, ndërsa unë vetëm dëgjoja cdo fjalë, cdo tregim duke mos dashur të më shpëtonte asgjë e thënë në ato momente.
Programi u pasua nga recitime të ndryshme ku poetët shqiptar paraqitën krijimet e tyre poetike rreth idhullit të Kosovës, nga valle të ndryshme ku mbi të gjitha më pëlqeu shumë ajo Tropojanja, ku ritmi i daulles kumbonte sikur donte të zgjonte të gjithë gjermaninë në ato momente. ”Hej ,,, këtu në zemrën tuaj jetojmë edhe Ne, shqiptarët e Skënderbeut dhe të Bardhylit, pasardhësit e Azem Shkrelit” dhe vajzat e reja shqiptare si flutura ritmonin në vallen e tyre po aq bukur, sikur ti kishte koreografuar dikush prej atdheut. E si mund të asimilohemi ne mërgimtarët kur përcillet një frymë e tillë patriotike. Mendova, ” ky është edhe qëllimi i takimeve të tilla letrare-kulturore këtu në emigracion, ruajtja nga asimilimi”. Aty flitej shqip dhe vashat valltare mbanin kostumet e tyre kuq e zi.

Më vonë më erdhi radha edhe mua të paraqisja poezinë time, të cilën e kisha shkruar një natë më parë dhe gati-gati deri në mëngjes.

Xhaketa e poetit,( Dedikuar poetit Azem Shkreli)

Xhaketën tënde, ngjyer me gjak Kosove,
Në një cep të odës e shikoj ulur pranë oxhaku,
Ajo xhaketë ngrohur ka, acaret e Rugovës,
Acaret që koha thyente mërgimit,
Acaret e cdo pragu.
Nuk ishte bezja, as prerja e hijshme që e dallonte,
Nuk ishte as era e duhanit që mbarte nga mërzitë në shekuj,
Ajo xhaketë larë ujëvarave të Mirushës, këndonte
Jetonte, edhe e vdekur.
Sot ma ka lëshuar vëndin në krye të oxhakut,
Po kush i bën më bukur traditat se xhaket e vjetër,
Në tym të duhanit disa fjalë m`i hedh tek pragu,
E më kujton atë, fjalën e vjetër.

Fjalën që kuptoi dhimbjen e tokës mëmë,
Fjalën që u flijua për gjuhën e artë,
Fjalën që njerkën kurrë se thirri nënë
E fytyrën se ngjeu kurrë me baltë.

Ecën shtëllungës i lodhur, odës së heshtur
E menduara, e vjetra xhaketë, shtegëtimit pakthim,
Në supet e lodhur, ëndërrën shqiptare ke tretur,
Oh këngë e pambaruar, e Atdheut t`im.

Silvana. Berki

Dikur, më vonë filluan edhe shpërndarja e cmimeve dhe një cmim i tillë më nderoi edhe mua. Isha shumë e lumtur, isha e respektuar nga vëllezërit dhe motrat e Kosovës. Profesori Lekë Preci i cili ishte edhe anëtar komisioni mu afrua afër dhe më pëshpëriti në vesh me një zë tepër miqësor ” Librin tënd PRELUDE, e kam lexuar tre herë dhe prap kam dëshirë ta lexoj” dhe më shtrëngoi dorën duke më uruar. Po ashtu edhe zj. Shkreli, gruaja e z. Azem duke më përqafuar u shpreh ” Jam shumë e gëzuar që atë cmim e more pikërisht Ti”. Cmime të tjera morën edhe Sevëme Fetiqi, një poete e diasporës, në Gjermani e cila më shoqëroi pothuaj gjatë gjithë mbrëmjes sikur ta kisha motër, Hasan Qyqalla me librin NJÊ SHEKULL DRITE dhe ndarje vlerësime mirënjohjeje për aktivistët e tyre. Po ashtu përkujdesi i kryetarit z. Qyqalla ishte i pranishëm në cdo moment. Humori i bukur ndërmjet poetëve e pasoi ambientin edhe me shumë me një energji pozitive. Isha në mes poetëve shqiptarë të diasporës; z. Agim Gashi, Mentor Thaci, Seveme Fetiqi, Martin Cuni etj.

Nuk ishte cmimi që na tërhoqi bashkë aty, por ishte ndarja e mendimeve tona poetike me njëri tjetrin, vizioni se si cdonjëri e paraqiste botën e tij të brendshme dhe mbi të gjitha vlerësimi dhe nderimi i poetit dhe shkrimtarit Azem Shkreli, njohja nga afër me personalitetin e Tij.
Ja tani, jam kthyer përsëri në Finland dhe nga gjith ai takim i këndshëm kam marrë me vete dashurinë e shqiptarëve të mërgatës, pak eksperiencë më tepër për sa i përket zhvillimeve të eventeve të tilla, por mbi të gjitha sëbashku me cmimin kam marrë edhe pak nga jeta e z. Azem Shkrelit. Fjalët e tij, me atë zërin e butë dhe burrëror nuk do ti harroj kurrë
” Ne duam shtet? Atëherë, le të punojmë me vepra për të”.


Pastaj duhet pritur
Gjersa të digjet e tëraKoha për pritje

Një herë, dy herë, tri

Pastaj duhet shkruar
Emra në hi a në rërë dhe
Dhe duhet fryrë erës

Shih si fillon kohë tjetër.

Azem Shkreli
Marrë nga vepra poetike ”ZOGJ DHE GURE”, 1997