Gladiola Busulla (Albania)

Gladiola Busulla (Albania)

Gladiola Busulla is an Albanian poet and writer. She was born in Durres on 13.04.1983. She graduated from the University of Tirana for Language and Literature in 2005. Gladiola’s family is originally from Ulcinj, Montenegro.
She has a master’s degree in Education Management, at Epoka University. Gladiola received the title ‘Best Teacher of 2012-2013’. In the qualification exam for teachers, she received the grade ‘Excellent’. Gladiola likes foreign languages and communicates in Italian, English, French, Spanish, Greek.
She was awarded the second prize at the poetry festival ‘Sofra poetike- Boras 2018’ in Sweden. She was also the winner of the AIR Litteratur Vastra Götaland- scholarship in Sweden in 2019. Her pen name is Gladiola Jorbus.
Gladiola Busulla has published eight books in the genres: poetry, novels, journalism.
Titles – ‘Desire of Perfection’, ‘Inanna’, ‘Namatisje – Reflections’, ‘Traces on the Island of Light’, ‘House of Mist’, ‘Temple of Poseidon’, ‘Lava of the Soul’, ‘Twenty-Eight Visions of the Moon’.
I observe the sky
The Boticelli’s Mercury
Sway gently the clouds.
Zephyr, the vernal breeze
Caresses my soul.
The universe recognizes me
I open my arms
Endlessly free.
My snakes
My eyes,
don’t betray
my heart.
My snakes are hungry
but I will always love you…
as a woman,
as a lover
as Medusa.
It’s ample a sparkle of light
To realize
Nothing is sinless
The clouds sway…
Superior above us.
The shadows are prolonged
to cause us pain.
While the night…
At, it never hesitates
To appear out of the blue,
With the sleep and the black mantle
The bodies fell asleep
The souls awake in a duel
The dark veil – the mask of the worst
(It begins to live everywhere)
Even in the absence
It’s ample a sparkle of light
To ignite
Or to make it disappear.
Kiss the wind
She is so familiar
Join your breath
With its breeze.
The wind will (caress)
My hair, my lips, my brow.
Softly she’ll bring me
Back to your feeling forever.
Oh, my beloved
Never forget me!
The penumbras
Through the branches
Fall into the earth.
Prolonged un-expression
The body disjoined from the feelings.
A chaste soul or
An amorphous skeleton?
The penumbras were brought
Back to life
The armor is slowly breaking
Just a last dream
Torments me,
What I’ll never be.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s