“Bota e djeshme – Kujtime të një evropiani” Vepër autobiografike – STEFAN CVAJG ( Fragment nga kapitulli UNIVERSITAS VITAE*) / Përktheu në shqip: Aristidh Ristani

“Bota e djeshme – Kujtime të një evropiani” Vepër autobiografike – STEFAN CVAJG Fragment nga kapitulli UNIVERSITAS VITAE* Meqë botoja shpesh e gati rregullisht në fejton, shumë shpejt nisi të më kanosej rreziku të bëhesha personalitet i njohur lokal; por … Continue reading

Poems by Jean C. Bertrand

Poems by Jean C. Bertrand   Unquestionable Unquestionable She likes the moon Rediscovering her beauty A glance at blue Unquestionable Irremovable syllables Touchable linguistic Angel of light Unquestionable Heaven and earth Watching her steps Glowing in the dark Unquestionable A … Continue reading

NOTTURNO (NIGHT – NOCHE – NOITE ) / Poem by Maria Teresa Manta

Poem by Maria Teresa Manta



Notturno é buio, silenzio e pianto,
solitudine immensa, tristezza, sentimenti repressi, a fatica celati. Notturno è cielo senza stelle,
le luci cittadine ce le hanno nascoste,
è buio ove il cuore trabocca
dolori repressi.
Notturno é nostalgia di affetti forti persi, lontani,
portati via dalla vita che avanza e lascia dietro
dolore e pianto e nostalgia.
Notturno é dove io vi cerco, mamma, papà, zii, cugini, nonni e tutti voi
che allietaste i miei giorni
e gli anni mi regalaste di splendide emozioni.
Notturno é dove il pianto doccia il mio viso e il petto e bagna il corpo di salata
cascata irrefrenabile, violenta.
Notturno é dove io vi cerco,
meravigliosi affetti che affrettaste il passo del tempo che mi lasciò indietro,
per andare avanti sulla via del mio senza voi,
a piangervi e cercarvi in quell’immenso, incolmabile vuoto che mi lasciaste.



Nocturne is darkness, silence and tears,
immense loneliness, sadness, repressed feelings, barely concealed. Nocturne is sky without stars,
the city lights have hidden them,
it is dark where the heart overflows
repressed pains.
Nocturne is nostalgia for strong, lost, distant affections
take away from the life that advances and leaves behind
pain and crying and nostalgia.
Nocturne is where I look for you, mom, dad, uncles, cousins, grandparents and all of you
that you gladden my days
and the years gave me splendid emotions.
Nocturne is where the weeping shower my face and chest and wets the salt body
unstoppable, violent waterfall.
Nocturne is where I look for you,
wonderful affections that hastened the pace of time that left me behind,
to go on my way without you,
to cry and look for you in that immense, unbridgeable void you left me.



Nocturne es oscuridad, silencio y lágrimas
inmensa soledad, tristeza, sentimientos reprimidos, apenas ocultos. Nocturne es cielo sin estrellas,
las luces de la ciudad los han escondido,
está oscuro donde el corazón se desborda
dolores reprimidos
Nocturne es nostalgia por afecciones lejanas fuertes, perdidas
quitar de la vida que avanza y deja atrás
dolor, llanto y nostalgia.
Nocturne es donde te busco, mamá, papá, tíos, primos, abuelos y todos ustedes
que alegras mis días
y los años me dieron espléndidas emociones.
Nocturne es donde el llanto me baña la cara y el pecho y moja el cuerpo salado
imparable, violenta cascada.
Nocturne es donde te busco
afectos maravillosos que aceleraron el ritmo del tiempo que me dejó atrás,
seguir mi camino sin ti
llorar y buscarte en ese inmenso e infranqueable vacío que me dejaste.



Noturno é escuridão, silêncio e lágrimas,
imensa solidão, tristeza, sentimentos reprimidos, mal disfarçados. Noturno é o céu sem estrelas,
as luzes da cidade os esconderam,
está escuro onde o coração transborda
dores reprimidas.
Nocturne é nostalgia de afetos fortes, perdidos e distantes
tirar da vida que avança e deixa para trás
dor e choro e nostalgia.
Nocturne é onde eu procuro por você, mãe, pai, tios, primos, avós e todos vocês
que você alegra meus dias
e os anos me deram emoções esplêndidas.
Noturno é onde o choro toma banho no meu rosto e no meu peito e molha o corpo salgado
cascata violenta e imparável.
Nocturne é onde eu procuro por você
afetos maravilhosos que aceleraram o ritmo do tempo que me deixou para trás,
para seguir meu caminho sem você
chorar e procurar por você naquele vazio imenso e intransponível que você me deixou.

Shtëpia Botuese “ADA” publikon librin me tregime “Një zë në park” të autores Vita Blloshmi Kozeli

Shtëpia Botuese “ADA” publikon librin me tregime “Një zë në park” të autores Vita Blloshmi Kozeli Redaktor e korektor letrar: Ndue Lazri Kopertina: Gjergj Kola, piktor, Itali Botimi i parë, 2019 ISBN: 978-9928-296-49-8 Përgatiti për botim: Roland Lushi ©Të gjitha … Continue reading

No hair on my head (Geen haar op mijn hoofd) / Poem by Hannie ROUWELER

Poem by Hannie ROUWELER
No hair on my head
Here I am standing with a flower stem
in my hand. As a precious world heritage site.
On a sunny day in the Agriculture testing grounds
Wageningen University of Applied Sciences. Various small fields.
No hair on my head thought about
writing poems.
What is that? Who does? Why does someone do that?
I am standing with a flower in my hand
indignant and curious as if it is a future.
To dream. Only dreams brought me further
on the way to all other things
that exist and are not always there for the taking.
But I chose the path to poetry.
If I had stayed on the test field, I would have known a lot
about all kinds of growth, slow and fast.
Now I know many types of rhyme and alliteration.
And oh, I know you. Fortunately, I got to know you.
Geen haar op mijn hoofd
Hier sta ik dan met een steeltje van een bloem
in mijn hand. Als kostbaar werelderfgoed.
Op een zonnige dag in de proeftuinen van de Landbouw
Hogeschool Wageningen. Diverse kleine veldjes.
Geen haar op mijn hoofd dacht aan
gedichten schrijven.
Wat is dat? Wie doet dat nou? Waarom doet iemand dat?
Ik sta met een bloem in mijn hand
verontwaardigd en nieuwsgierig alsof het een toekomst is.
Dromen. Alleen dromen brachten mij verder
op weg naar alle andere dingen
die bestaan en niet voor het oprapen liggen altijd.
Maar ik koos de weg naar de poëzie.
Had ik op de proefveldje blijven staan dan had ik veel geweten
over allerlei vormen van groei, langzaam en snel.
Nu ken ik vele soorten van rijm en alliteratie.
En och, ik ken jou. Gelukkig heb ik jou leren kennen.

GYPSY / Poem by Aneeta Chitale

I saw a gypsy
By the side of- Pharaoh’s in Egypt
So scintillating was her headgear adorned
With silvern and gold coins
She walked in poise as she
Skirted her long Egyptian Gypsy Trails
Clad in ……
Myriad colours and mystique stance
She walked round the tall big
Pharaoh’s and Pyramids
Lost in archaic time
May be she had
To find her answers
Buried deep, lost in vicisstudes of time!
She gazed at her ‘Crystal Ball’
Intonating with chimes
And walked away,
As if The Pharaoh’s would breathe to life
And she would find
The secrets of life!
In tombs one lived a life
After death,
So the tale of Pharaoh’s tell
So exotic and ephemeral
In times they lived!
I stood behind, the tombs
Struck in awe and wonder
I too looked at The Pyramids
Forever thinking
Why The Kings, The Pharaoh’s lay
In majestic tombs?
Each bespoke
A story of it’s reign
In Egypt!
Waiting to breathe to life
Perhaps…..I think
May be the winds knew the secret!
The Gypsy too bespoke
A truth!
They would rise to rule
In glory of their tribe!
To live in a mirage
Of time travel
Of battles fought long ago, to recount
Glory in the Aquarian age!
To tell the story, to the spirits
And mankind
I wondered, if the dead would rise
From the sand dunes?
In time travel…….
I followed her
To the streets of Baghdad, in Samara
by the river, Tigris
The sun had set, and she carried
Frankieinsence, burnt briquettes
In a silver ‘Bakhoor’
She trailed it’s incense and peacock feathers
In the bazaars and wadi’s of
The old, den of Caliph!
She spelled her charms and
Wore her talisman, her amulets
Intricately designed,
Bedounian styled
Whispering to herself….
Secret messages
Of the wind and the water!
She wore orthoceras dagger ring,
Long and crafty Omani style
Decked in Aqeeq Red Rings
Bejewelled her- all ten fingers
With cats eye and moonstones
She wore her long ‘Black Abeya’
Puffed in lingering scents
Clunging to her bosom, her Arabic perfumes
Adorned with Egyptian silver cuffs,
And ten toe nails, covered in Bedounin’s maze
I followed her in awe and wonder
Like a man in trance
Dare not ask her my………
Good fortune!
I think, she was…. my Talisman !
Who took me to
The streets of Baghdad!
Poem By Aneeta Chitale (India)
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