Hasije Selishta – Kryeziu (Kosova)

Hasije Selishta – Kryeziu                    (Kosova)

 

Member of Board of International Poetical Galaxy ATUNIS and Publication Executive ATUNIS

Hasije Selishta – Kryeziu was born in April 13 of the year 1960 in Kamenica, Kosovo. She sattended the elementary and high education at her birthplace and latter on, she attended the University of Prishtina for Jurisprudence in Prishtina. Hasija has 8 volumes of poetry published and 2 novels. For her creations in prose and poetry she has won with some prizes locally and worldwide. Her poems are included in the Anthology, where many other international authors are presented translated in a few languages. She is member of WPS, IWA and member of Board “ATUNIS”

Anti model

Wildness paints
An old piece
Of wood.

Near by me
Only a candle
Is lit

Sooner or later
A candle will be lit
For all

At the theatre
The fainted artist
Painting the Sisyphus’ hand.

 

Unfolding the silence

I have scratched my forehead
With my own nails
I did not light up
Its specific light

When he saw my tears
How much did laugh with me
And opened the file
Of the power

I looked his face
In the density of misery
I collected all the waters
In order to unfold the silence
When every single palm of land
I irrigated with tears
Many flowers bloomed up.
I stood as a stone.

 

Sand particles

The sea and the wind
By my side
In my body
The sand has painted a trunk.

When the cold spiral is tossed up
The silence is burning
Its raining upon the tree
All the leaves had fallen in dreams
To carve a tattoo to me.

In the white depth
The silence is burning
It folded the dreams
Within the fire

When the night
Reads the accidents
The air evaporates
The soul is burning under the power
Along with me and the tattoo.

 

In our house

Every time the lighting stroke
The white dove
Keeps singing still on the hip
In our bones
The thirsts of distances
Are in a lost shell

In our house
Every time the sun has delivered its warmth
The cradles have increased
In the eyes of the gamins
The shadows have passed
The lullaby of childhood is being sung.

In our house
Every time the blood is shed
For a sublime word
It is believed in wisdom
How many memorials are there.

Translated by Dritan Kardhashi

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