Poems by Agron Shele
Autumn in Tirana
In Tirana that is lost in water creeks,
Through extended water drips in the windows of crystals,
In the abandoned benches from all this unrest
In the naked trees all the way to forgiveness.
Even its returning tears of meditation instants,
Forgotten old romances in memory,
Returning painfully in the soft spirits
Yellow paper, of my diary.
In Tirana of the earlier steps,
Of a bench that is always naked with green flowers,
Of the last glass dropped through ridges
Pieces of lips, skies of love
And longing for passed times,
For the deeming of light in the white soul,
For the life thrown away through angles of reflections,
For the abandoned leaves from all this demise.
And traces in every heart beat
For her…for someone…for love,
Of after times that are knocked in so much noise
…and of autumn, e melancholic pentagram.
Exhausted and suffering up to the last point
Exhausted and suffering all the way to becoming drunk,
From the weight of fearful time,
And fatality of the offense of nations.
A time of screams from your centuries,
Raised over fires and fortresses of legends,
Bloody wounds by sleeping martyrs
A challenge of fate for the brave.
Twisted from the waves of our tributes
Lackeys rose over podiums of pain,
Exalted crowds all the way to craziness,
Undersigned of heretical time.
A song of the first bird in the morning
A wind of earth covered by green flowers
A muse of skies always in azure
A summer flower always shining.
A hope and praying ground of your sons
A suffer of sacrilegious raised over freedom
An ancient root of the human foundation
An eternal voice on the last passions.
Precious white stone!
Precious white stone has remained there,
Hidden after walls and fearful winter,
After the weak drapes and the heretical time,
After the turns and mountains lost in the west.
White precious stone is still there,
Amid the years and lives passed with anger,
Amid the steps that reach all the way to childhood,
Amid longing and my spiritual pain.
White precious stone forgotten there,
Perhaps after the northern ice in depth
Dissolved through the gorges of restless wolfs,
Times of timeless of turbulent fates!
White precious stone, sleeping there
Below a pretty piece of sky, stars that suffer
Descending and broken by the vibration of drunkenness
Ascending all the way to the sky, just like in Holy Spirit.
How far away and nearby
How fare and how close,
With knees that remain through the times of sadness,
Spreading through grey waves of confusion
To genuine soul, anger and sadness.
How far and hour close,
We the owners of freedom and angst
In the bridges and lost horizons
In the intersections of turbulent fates.
How far and how close,
In the magic that has appeared at dawn
With thirst after an empty pride
And through the streets without a return.
How far and how close,
Touching the whitest dreams
At tomorrow’s hope and frightens
At the simplest humility, greatness.
You were lost…
You were lost completely unexpectedly in the intersection of roads,
not even green lights with the colors of poets
you were lost through the clouds of thoughts
dissolved after the suffering screams of soul.
You were lost in the rainbows that wait colors
Infinitely prisms of the sky that is broken
In the broken wings creeks of seagulls
From waterfalls that descend through thousands of dances
A twist of clouds and much dew.
You were lost in the stars a thunderstorm of the west
Dreams that are meek on angel looking wings
A phantasm of peaks that touch fantasy
Of fiery loves,
That darkness suffers.
You were lost deeply in the sea’s blue color
And through tornadoes that shake lives
A tip of the iceberg that touch the blueness
…And of fates,
Beliefs of desires that are sinful to anyone
You were lost in the first depth of winter
Icebergs of feelings frozen in the park,
…decorating the childish life without luck
And the cold is frightened with sadness.
You were lost deeply in view
From eyes that touch endless horizons,
Eyebrows that are tired from the days of waiting
And the last tears
Glassy crystal washed by sadness.
Lost misunderstanding a life of abandonment
Of scenarios of symphony of pain
Of times that have gone swiftly without notice
Turbulent over feelings
Living under worry
You were lost in the shelves of writing books
And of the ink that is erased from this forgiveness
Waves of words burned in passions
Waves of words burned in love.
Of infinite space in the sky
A rebus of stars sparkling stars
A son of sonnets with late night events
After sounds of fire and the life of soul
Like the latest leaves of autumn branches
Waving in the cloud sky as screaming
After the cold scream,
An ice that is coming by
And of the first snow whitening the ground
…And we go not understanding the rapid steps
…Or nothingness that awaits transformation
The surrounding of grey darkness just like evening
Of a moonless night,
Of infinite darkness.
Everyone towards the heavy gate are headed
And turbulent minds
Satellites of circles of Dante encompass them
Perhaps at the dawn of Beatrice’s splendor
And the grey dust has a veil of attention,
A veil of forgiveness
An iron veil
Jailed feelings exterminated in the distance
Of lives that go
And lives that come
And they come and come non stop
From the screams and swords
At the weapons and bombs
The word and law overcomes inhabitants
The new knights of crusades
And fate wanted to bring these sins
In the pain of peace,
To turn into a deceased
For what time erases with eagerness
For that seasons resuscitate.
Translated by Peter Tase