Zhaneta Barxhaj (Albania)

Zhaneta Barxhaj (Albania)

 
Zhaneta Barxhaj comes from the city of Tepelena. She is graduated for Albanian Literature at University Of Tirana Albania and then she studied for finance-accounting at the same university. Poetry and writings have accompanied her in the early years .
Poems written since adolescence are selected in the poet’s first book “The dancer without foot” published in Tirana 2016. In her manuscripts there are other poems and prose which are waiting to be published. Currently lives in Tirana and works in the public administration, dividing life between economics and literature.
 
 
***
 
Particles of his soul
Abdicating the ground, reach me
Grab me by the hair
Wanting to drag me away
 
In my neck Sticking their fingers
Withdrawing my breath
Uh! Bruise blackened
I get the colours of his moldy warm breath
Over the glass of vanished eyes
 
Ah! Sitting over a head
Casually, Unknowingly,on my exact vertical
Ceases deeply the decapitated.
 
Us two, turned into parallel ends
Pulling and stretching,violently each other
Ah! This insight crashes me
And i can’t help it
But,continue to sit over his head
 
We will brawl lengthy, friend
So, a bit of merci….
It ain’t my fault
You leaving your head underneath me
And I, sitting on it
 
So, let go of my throat
Collect your bits,
Left over my strings
And let me breathe
Some air friend….please a little !
It is my time….i shall live
 
 
 
***
 
Have you tried the need to cry,
seating on the window facing the clouds?
Ever felt inside
the satisfaction of a dropping tear?
It’s sudden plunge from eyes?
Touching the skin with wet prints?
What about the salted sweetness
of lips being kissed,
while you draw the nose?
The symphony of globules,
while couting them in an open palm,
have you witnessed it?
Have you tried to weep
from the muteness of the soul?
Ah! My dear!
I wish you cry…
 
 
 
***
 
What should i confess to you
during the long lasting day and nights,
where time is unjustly stolen?
Above the plateaus’s white veil, i try sending a star to you.
Bending its corner with a glance,
with a kiss emblemed as a bijou.
Pale, from the heft i send it towards,
i wait the address won’t be misplaced.
Did it arrive?

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