Dr. Ernestina Gjergji Halili (Albania)
Ms. Erenestina Gjergji Halili, studied at the Faculty of History and Philology, in the department of Language and Literature, where she also attended the academic journalism course. During this time, Ms. Erenestina engages in the press organs of the time, with poetic creativity and writings about that time’s problems. She is also one of the students of the “December Movement’91”. In 1990-1991, she contributed as Culture Manager, inMTKRS / Youth Federation.
Ms. Erenestina Gjergji Halili, is the author of three books: “Gjama e erës”, “Bibliography of the published Albanian Drama (the first study in the field of Albanian dramaturgy, in Albania, Kosovo, Macedonia, Montenegro, etc.), and a third book named “Bibulz”.
With the “Gjama e erës” book, Ms. Halili won the first prize at the National Book Fair, in Fier 2016. Various scholars have evaluated the poetic and anthropological elements of the book, including it in their papers, as subject of different scientific and literary studies.
With the “Bibulz” volume, she was evaluated by the Institute for the Protection of Albanian Culture in Austria, with the “Crystal Pen for Albanian Poetry”, 2017. Ms. Halili was also awarded with the “Albanian Excellence” title, in 2017.
Dr. Erenestina Gjergji Halili is the founder of the ‘Drama Club’ at UT, an innovation in the Albanian university life, with rich literary and dramatic activity, taking place inside and outside of Albania.
Form the bottom
A bony man, alongside to the high rise hummock
Crooked burrowing some stones to pulverize
Scorched, frozen, thirsty as a strong rock
Crazed to be bigger and bigger to rise
You did it a mountain
But the wind blew
It became a wind
But a cloud appears new
It change to flare
But it went to be the earth’ atmosphere
He beseeched to turn back to the height
There, to burrow, the last to be
The others to follow
The wind flurried
The cloud sullied
The sun was ceiled
The mountain was dethroned
The thunder grumbled
It didn’t reach the burrow in the profound
From the bottom it rises the dashing
From the end, burrowing
Motherland into a cloth sack
I lost my motherland into a cloth sack
Better say: – it was lost as a key into the bag
No idea, what they were ferretting about
Mother-land, couldn’t fit as it was a gout
Later I came to know, later I did…
I left the cloth sack somewhere thrown
It was the moment my mother – land was hit
No bigger and smaller than a chest bone
That little while gone
Leaving beside a deaf tone…
Sip some wine comrade
Cheers for the time passed without waiting
For the time digging the old wounds
For the time, disappeared, walking
Sip some wine dear mate
Fuddle and booze
Cos life is a big lie
Cos the wound bites in high
I am not to be, I am not to have
I am not mine
So, drink wine..!
Drink your soul into the wine
Point the fate out
Swear the flash and pledge!
I’d like a sip too!
Gulp wine, my best friend
Cheers for the last word no-said
On the go, it was let
For the song being sang upon the blades
For your body’s evening turned into shades.
Booze my dear, booze
With no excuse, booze
The last sip
I’d like to drink!