Dashamir Malo (Albania)

Dashamir Malo (Albania)

 

Dashamir Malo, born city of Permet, Albania. He finished Military Academy and later the Police Academy. Since 1990 -1997 he worked in his profession in the city of Saranda. In 1997 he immigrated to Athens – Greece where he worked and lived until 2002. In 2003, then resumes work in his profession as a police officer and is currently Chief Administration of Border Police Station in Saranda.

He has published books of poetry “Between solitude and silence”, “Precedent” and “Hiding the Lot”, “Maybe”. In 2014 he published the book of poetry “Vaguely”.
He translated from Greek poetry volume “Selected Poems” of the Greek poet, publicist and journalist, George Hronas and book of essays “Crasy dance of the Merylin’s.” Also has participated in anthologies of poetry, “The gates of forgetfulness”, “Itaca of speech” and “Lanes open”. He continuously published poems in literary newspapers such as “Dight”, “Word”, “Nacional”, “Writer”, “Art Ionian”. He has also published cycles of poetry in Greek, Norwegian and German language.
He is one of the following organizers of poetic annual meetings, which are held in the city of Saranda from Ionian Makers Club.

 

False rainbows
(Requiem for the system that passed)

At evenings we heard an age – mate crying
At mornings, as well.
We grew up by the means of hunger.
We hoped.
This was the only alternative.
The sole left.
Our desires were false rainbows
That time dissolved.
We waited for the birds of dreams to return.
They had abandoned us times ago.
We waited,
waited for long.
We shouldn’t cry,
We should only laugh.
That’s why we sadly laughed.
Later on,
Later became stutterer.
Our beings took shapes of things.
From day to day
We died slowly and slowly.
And we doubted
More and more…..

 

Ylberë të rremë
Rekuiem

mbrëmjeve
dëgjonim një moshatar që qante
mëngjeseve gjithashtu
u rritëm
në sajë të urisë
shpresonim
kjo ishte e vetmja zgjidhje
që na kishte mbetur
dëshirat tona
ishin ylberë të rremë
që i treste koha
prisnim të ktheheshin zogjtë e ëndrrave
ata prej kohësh na kishin braktisur
pritëm
pritëm gjatë
nuk duhet të qanim
vetëm duhet të qeshnim
ndaj dhe qeshnim trishtueshëm
pastaj
pastaj u bëmë të belbër
forma sendesh morën qëniet tona
dita-ditës vdisnim pak e nga pak
dhe dyshonim
shumë e më shumë…..

 

The owl

The owl began its old song
Upon an oak
Now that the murky evening falls
The night brings along a false peace,
While it looks with the eyes of the deceitful,
and listens with the ears of the burglar.
Sleepy stands there beyond
The old mountain,
With a distorted sky
Over its head.
And a moon
That eats itself because of sorrow.
This night that shelters the anxiety
Melted our ways in the darkness.
A torn sheet of the cloud
Like a flag
After a lost battle,
Tossed by the furious wind of January …
Be quiet!
Someone passes
Or the barefoot rain
Falls onto the leaves. ?!
Be quiet!
Someone passes …
but even if passes,
the lost path will be.

 

Gjoni

gjoni e nisi këngën e tij të vjetër
mbi një lis
tani që mbrëmja e vagullt po bie
nata sjell me vete një paqe të rreme
teksa vështron me sytë e të pabesit
dhe dëgjon me veshët e hajdutit
si mahmurr rri atje tej
mali plak
me një qiell të shpërfytyruar
mbi krye
dhe një hënë
që veten ha nga pikëllimi
kjo natë
që përbujt ankthin
i treti udhët tona në errësirë
një carcaf të grisur reje
si një flamur pas një betejë të humbur
e tund era e tërbuar e janarit …
hesht!
kalon dikush
apo shiu këmbëzbathur qëmëton
nëpër gjethurina?!
shëët hesht!
dikush kalon…

po dhe në kaloftë
udhëhumbur do të jetë.

 

An old woman

An old woman
Wakes up at dawn,
Leaves her house in a hurry
Stretches her hand
And tears a piece from the star of the dawn
And like a veil ties it in her head.

An old woman wearing a white veil
With the sickle of the moon on her back
Walks through fields
To reap the loneliness
Sowed years ago.

 

Një grua plakë

një grua plakë
zgjohet ndaj të gdhirë
nxitimthi del nga shtëpia
zgjat dorën
një copë gris prej yllit të mëngjesit
një copë
dhe si shami e lidh në kokë
një plakë çemberbardhë
me draprin e hënës në sup
shkon nëpër ara
të korri vetminë
mbjellë vite e vite më parë.

 

***

Multicolored
Date trunks in fall
Like women
Overwhelmed by
Flames of passion.

 

***

shumëngjyrëshe
kurmet e hurmave në vjeshtë
si gra
të përfshira
nga flakë pasioni.

 

***

I am
The remaining moment
Of a disappeared time,
Carrying on my back
Silent testimonies.

 

***

jam
çasti i mbetur
i një kohe
të vidhisur
e mbi vetë mbaj
dëshmi gjuhëprera.

 

***

Olives
In the crests of the hills,
Like mythical travelers
Immovable,
That will never arrive
To the place where they want to go.

 

***

ullinj
nëpër kreshtat e kodrave
si udhëtarë mitikë
të palëvizshëm
që s’do të arrijnë
kurrë
për atje ku janë nisur

 

***

Birds of love
I send them to your sweet
Groves and hillocks
And together
We make the spring.

 

***

zogjtë e dashurisë
i nis korijeve
dhe bregoreve të tua
të ëmbla
e bashkë bëjmë pranverën.

 

Why does my thought groan?

The sovereign sun while going down
Caused the exhausted mountain to bleed,
An old, solitary fir
Stands on a hill slope like a hermit.

While I melt my look towards sunset
My wondering thought abandons me
It flies like a wild fowl,
Over the corolla of the old fir.

For the whole world which bleeds,
My fugitive thought groans,
There at the holy slope,
Stands the fir like an extinguished torch.

 

To the day which passed

I did not remember the face
Of the day that passed
Days change the portrait
Like the girls of the Pub – Bars
Change the make – up.

I feel lonely.
I lost even the bus of the last hour.

I don’t know why this midnight scares me,
With this empty silence
With these prostitutes
Who await clients at the wide road,
With these traffic – lights
That remains red
Like the eyes of the drunkards.

I walk aimlessly.
mournful sounds are heard from far.

On the keyboard of the night
Plays an invisible hand.

 

***

Like a deep and boundless sea
There is something magic in your eyes
Somehow one becomes delirious before them
Don’t know how I become dazzled
Don’t know how I get lost!

Don’t know how you get the storm under control,
Don’t know how you turn the winter into summer,
Don’t know how you retreat to your depths,
Don’t know how you drown,
Don’t know how you revive
That way
Without being heard.

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