Irina Hysi was born in the city of Gjirokastra. After graduating from high school, she graduated from the Tirana Art Institute for painting. The veil between deep inspiration, poetic intuition, and appearance and image realization as a painting often accompanies the category of all the artists who possess these types of techniques, but resizing and expressive forms with the language codes and the spirit of the music make this art to touch the highest constellations creatures of the creative spirit. Irina Hysi is the author of poetry volumes “Cyclone” and “MrsHeart” volumes that have attracted the attention of literary criticism to postmodern concepts, as a combination of poetic side and painting, but as a cover of the canvas being in the infinite spaces of universal coloration. Irina Hysi is the author of the Logos of the Literary League: The Poetry Galaxy ATUNIS, the cover of the Atunis Literary Magazine, as well as the International Anthology, part of which is the author herself as a poet but also as an interviewee of many personalities in the field of culture. Currently she lives and works in Tirana.
My journey through the maze!
“Show me a dream” Dreamer,
With the magic of the word, your codes?!
Come to design the same osmosis…
Wake me up my real dream-irreal?!
Oh, talk to me with endless whispering…
You’re my most attentive witness!
You universe of signs from breath to breath.
You a pastor of time, understand me reader.
‘m a green “tree ” of hope.
Ah, you spirit of my soul, believe me,
You who tramp me, invent me in time!
My root of truth; Golden foliage…
I am sent of deities, your fruit…
I came to understand myself, you…
-You, you are He in me, where I want to find, I’m thirsty.
Maybe you will never wake up, but …
You were and will be my mirror …
My journey through the maze!
Cyclone sends me away, I do not know where.
Face-grained, unrooted, overturned.
In the brain, a hazelnut core.
Bandaged, sterilized, in surgery.
Cold, neon illuminated halls.
Shadow, by yourself, away.
White blouses, with hood, face covered.
Crucified, in a dark room, locked.
Scientists, disguised, ingested, imitated.
The fracture of thought, by anyone, robbed.
Extreme people, ready for everything.
Shouting, or screaming me mad?
One day, on my bed, when the roles come, we will change.
Enough and order, to pierce me! Crazy, I’m not!
Of men with big name, people without scruple!
Then, the poor, in the basket …
Traditionally, from being spiritually mutilated …
This is when the lord is absent!
A woman, walking on the ladder, constantly laughing,
In the end, a glow of fire.
Passport, you got it, for a visa.
Doctor, don’t make me any injection!
Pills, I don’t want anymore!
Take my silence, perfume.
Pleasant journey in sunken deepest water drizzle.
From feelings, I only lack envy.
Attitude activates memory.
Hieroglyphs, language traces left in the past.
Senses,that are not in great eyes.
Frame, imagination, fixation of figures.
Threats, feelings, traces, chase.
What should be done and what not?
Disappointing, of course, reflection is missing.
Easily recalls the moments you’ve never forgotten.
Getting up from bed, falling … in monotony.
Touching the essence, the gray hair of time.