Arqile V. Gjata (Albania)

Arqile V. Gjata (Albania)


He was born in Jun 24, 1942 in Vlora City. The primary and secondery school he finished in Vlora and high school as well. In 1971 – 1973 he studyed for 3 years in the “Institut” of Scodra while he was working too. In these years he was writing poetry and articles in “The voice of Youth”, a national newspaper. The first poems, titled “Shqerka” and “Xha Xhemali”are written since 1966. In 1995 he immigrated to Greece in Athina with his family where he is living today. Since then he has been writing poetry and so far has written 8 volums of poetry, a book with poems in Italian language and a novel as well. While recently he has taken part in some university calls with his works. There are 5 study and literature works, three of them are published. Two volums of poetry are translated into English and Italian languages. He is a co-author in some anthologies and literary magazines such as: Literary magazine nr 38 “Mehr Lict” Terziu’s Anthology “Vëzhgim në brendësi të prozës dhe poezisë shqiptare”, 1, 2. In literary magazine “Heamus” many writings such as: poems, study writings, novels, essays that are published by academics Ardian and Kopy Kyçyk in Bucharest such as: “Pelegrini”, “Pegasi”, “Çelësi i shpirtit” in rumanian and “Qiejt e shpirtit” and co-author in “Eagle’s voices” in English.


‘’The fatal meeting between the life and the death never happens’’.

The life as a tale,
Step by step we live it,
Sincere and quiet
as a child,
The beautiful tale we believe!
Scared by fear, play into the wind,
( maybe the tales disappear),
The enthusiasm, with love kills it,
while in the cradle of time,
the oneselfness lulls asleep.
The all, on the staff of the tale, we’re writing!
The death as a dream…
Its key is tattoo in blood.
When by it, we’re terrified,
I feel to sob so much.
We believe that dream is playing us,
Then with the blazing eye
Drops on the love and so
In her hands we want to die…!


Alone man

Alone man, strong,
In his trouble.
With a bag on his shoulders,
closed inside his breath.
Everything around him, looks like sin statue.
They all, leave alone under the pressure of the air!
Alone man have gifted the pain masterpieces.
He lives… has something important
And dies alone,
As if he was asleep with the head into the hands!



With the voice of Autumn I came to you.
Then, when the wind shook the leaves!
I played with your lips,
While was kissing your eyes.
I hadn’t had time to cry,
With your kisses, my tears were dried!



Every time we said Hello silently
only with a kiss.
Now, when the Winter came,
pigeons don’t fly when it’s raining!
As children
Climbing on top of the roof
To see how
The pigeons kiss each-other
At the Winter time!



I’m thinking to compare the life
With the smile,
But, is it possibly funny?
only the rain would say the truth!
The nuances of Autumn,
The rain painted,
Brought them from the season of Summer,
Hot and exuberant!



‘’Human is a limit for everything’’

…and why it is said:
‘’World will die ‘’,
It walks again…
I know its step, it walks with me.
The world,
Now is a relic,
Nobody say it in a loud voice,
Just the ‘’tic-tac’’ of the invented time!
Come on…
To build its museum,
Then, will find its silence,
Without heart and blood!


When I loved the owl

A few know…
that would be living with
the owl!
when she sang in our fest!
In the woods of tunes…
there is much pain in her song.
Through the hair of trees,
in the cloudy time,
she mourned her song
Compassion to her!
So much I was hurt…
when she was mourning for the life!
Day-nights of the eye,
the owl was tired,
so she came and was turned for me
into a poetry!
And the owl loves…
She took a nap on my face!
In every season,
in the sky of the time,
the owl was mourning.
In one day of April,
my soul was melted to in hers.
the owl
now is a legend for me!
And now,
the runaways song is her memory!
Embrace each-other like relic,
the love for

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