Poems by Fatime Kulli ( Albania)

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Poems by Fatime Kulli ( Albania)



The crashed moon…


On August of the wild flame

I squeeze broken colors…

Shadow’s tranquility makes me tremble

Hanged on the day fingers.

I gather the sun flakes

A water-flower whisper.


The air cord gets cut off

On the eye of pain…

In the glade of tears

I eat the weight of the remaining breath…


I feel the breath of shadow

It drinks the air of my song

And ignites me

Cutting the veins

Of the broken moon…

The sky has gone wild

At the disfavor of fruits

The Earth-cave



I follow the steps of shadow

It touches my bones

Troubled ones…

The leafs of softness

Make plants flourish

At the steps of the rock

That makes the N-I-G-H-T-M-A-R-E flow…



My white despar


They humiliate me, they call me “quean”

They draw my portrait with a paintbrush of nail,

They spot me like the black sheep separated from the herd…

And accuse me for writing avant-garde poetries,

What should I do, that my poetry is what feeds the soul

Not only for me, but also for women with childish smiles,

That read my poetries secretly from their men

Like “The apple of sin” cause of the disgusting moral,

That triumphs across the crowd as an honest one.

But what should I do, that my sinful poetries

Scare even the shepherd,

Who after reading these poetries with thirsty hunger,

Runs with his stick in hands to punish me…!


The disgusting moral tries to rip out my veins of feeling

To kill my poetic spirit, to change its destination, colours…

But I’m not afraid of him, I write screaming,

I tack in every verse cell, like a bloody flower

For love, for the woman’s eyes crying, wounded,

For the tired soul, exhausted from the desecration of morality.


The angry notes of the preachy crowd tremble,

My fingers dive in the metaphors of life,

Where the membranes take fire in the verse of poetry…

The voice of God, tells me: there is life in darkness,

There is hope in the desert, light in the blindness,

Spirit of love, there is balance in the universe,

Even the wounded sounds pulse in deafness…

My white, strong despair doesn’t tremble

Even as they insult me, offend my morality…

I am a WOMAN, I keep writing poetries for love,

The one pure, attractive road that gives me life,

The soul scream that in front of the verse makes me die…!



Under acorbatic sounds


The breath gurgles with a poisonous taste

Through the narrow path of the sun

Covered with the snakeskin

Like a dreamer for the blooming of EGO…


The air spreads and becomes depressed

Under the sweet storm of deception

The forks keep chewing newsletters,

Nailing eyes strike the sunny ones…


The darkness has sharpened its claws,

Tearing the deaf dreams apart

The capillaries of mind

Wounded in their desire clash

Against the false grace…


I strive to escape the thorns

The walls of servility ambush me…

I live within the roots of wisdom

The forks dance under acrobatic sounds…





The Twenty-first century

Wanders orderly over the victims


The blood drops flow like a river

On the world screens…

My motherly soul suffers…

Whispering the wailings and injustices…

I see even the worn sun

The candlesticks of the new human have been discolored

The shoulders of soul can’t bear the horror!


We see little snakes, large, greedy ones

Turning into vampires in front of humans…

The soles of feet with blood traces

Trample on the pain of thousand women around the world…


Shshtt, shshtt… shshtt….

Keeps murmuring the love

That has been silently killed…

The soul of women roars from the abyss:

Expunge the rancor, turn off the envy, extinguish the infidelity,

Bring the light to our eyes!

The scarf of love

Tie it around your soul, human,

Shine light in the space, and goodness for the humans!


Often they pray and beg in front of the icon:

St. Mary, pray for the lives of our children,

Heal this century of storms…

Punish the evil, the greed,

The sale of freedom of small nations!

Bless the peace for all people in this world…






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