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AAWB-Brussels, Belgium — 14 Comments

  1. Living Beyond Herself
    “To have faith means to live… Faith is the only thing that is ours by any means.”
    Mother Teresa
    Presently has arrived in herself and is living with the Angels
    For those many years
    From the great past
    A marvel named Albanica was living beyond herself
    With two spirits
    One for God and the other for humanity

    She was somewhat a blossoming flower- Gonxhe – and a small Calcutta
    Was more Albanica and even more light
    For humanity
    She prayed and was part of
    Prayers
    She prayed and was
    Illyricum
    In prayers
    Our mother Teresa
    In 1978 Peace called upon you
    Mother, in that year
    I came into this world
    Today
    When I need pride
    I depart for Kruja, the home of the Kastriots
    And call upon Gjergj
    When I need a star
    From the Universe
    Walk towards the ridge of the Sun
    Call upon Rugova.
    Our Mother Teresa
    With your blessing I have fallen and
    Wake up
    As a Dardanian
    The angels living in the sky
    Smiled and waited
    Your great disappearance
    Huge disappearance
    In all these many years
    The fatherland is getting ready
    For another day
    Called Albanica

    Continue to pray for humanity
    For your homeless children
    For your sacred Soil
    Named
    ILLYRIA
    Many years went by
    Since you have been away
    And other people are coming
    Beautiful flower, Gonxhe
    Learned it in Shkrel
    Kadare Said:
    “I know a word from the stone”
    Learned it in Shkrel
    I have somewhere a palace of dreams
    And now
    You may bless the traces of Prekaz
    And of the city of Gllogjan
    We can see those anti-dreams in their eyes
    Our father in the sky

    Is looking at us with Sympathy
    Say another word
    Albanian
    God Bless Arberia
    Light a candle
    Brighten the Fatherland
    OF Illyria
    This is the first time
    Mother you are the light itself
    everyone knows this
    The past is not envied

    For everyone
    Only when he can be gone there, like you mother
    Is a marvelous arrival in the past
    Even Jesus knew the Albanians

    But the storm took us away
    What can you do to the evil fate
    Neighbors happen to be this way
    You have lived beyond yourself

    You have arrived now and
    Living with your self forever

    Together with the angels
    our future of tomorrow
    Bring us today

    Pray for us mother once more
    because December is scary for me
    And I don’t know what I am seeing
    I suspect that Dardanian Spring is delaying its arrival
    In order to overwhelm the cold of Dardania
    Dardanika
    Don’t forget four pieces
    Separated
    Mother you are our name shining in the sky
    and in the Earth.

    Jeton Kelmendi
    Brussels, December, 2007

  2. Agron Shele WPS
    Secretary General
    IAAPW “Pegasi” ALBANIA

    MY MUSE

    My muse!

    What beauty do you hide within twilights?

    What dreams you gave birth to beyond the forest glades?

    What songs did you sing in the deep gorges?

    What rays do you seek in the gloomy evenings?

    My muse!

    I stand at the silent crag.

    Beat the silence through the eternity absorbed.

    I see everywhere the old sunset

    Everywhere appears dawn revived.

    My muse!

    The years and the grey hair like the mountain crests,

    brightening under the hidden fogs.

    The spirit carved by the thin pen,

    Trembling, breaking, far away in the remote places

    My muse!

    I wonder, did you come as a curse

    Or as a play played dizzily

    I see the eyes of the girl hidden

    And the tears transformed into an emerald.

    My muse!

    Like a holy soul impels induces neglect forgetfulness

    Why poets we became in the morning

    Under the vagrant step the day passes by

    In our apparitions life

    Poetry

    My dreams remained there,

    Like thousand of icebergs in the boundless ocean

    My mind penetrates beyond in the skies.

    In other skies, journeys of poetry.

    My dreams remained there,

    In the vernal nights, full of stars.

    Words that cause the soul shiver

    And weaved the magic linen

    My dreams remained there,

    like the morning light.

    With the yearning of autumn

    And the drops of rain, melancholy.

    My dreams remained there

    Over the archs of rainbows, with meaningful colors.

    The lucky day , hope and merriment,

    arched paths of poetries.

    Zeus promised…

    Zeus promised the eternal justice,

    hidden,

    stopped for many centuries

    Sinners caught the sinners

    the holiest of presents for the terrible “Had“

    Everywhere supporters applauded absurdity(insanity)

    And everywhere they tightened chains of innocence.

  3. Albert NIKOLLA

    Sun head-shaving,
    Cassandra dreams,
    Meadows and dogs running

    The sun is washed in water, head-shaved galaxy
    Until the foundation of your heart be built with concrete blocks,
    My stomach swims a little further,
    you that loves the sun hates me.

    Cassandra also bathes in the waters of lunar Jupiter,
    Woolly hair entangled with sex
    water temperature minus a hundred and twenty-five kelvin,
    It is said that neither freeze shall prevent terrible dreams,

    Hitler and Achilles in a secret supper,
    drink the blood of innocent Jews instead of wine,
    Troy continues to feast,
    As played by charlatans a whore with head of menthol,

    Christ imprisoned for treason in the Vatican, by order of the people,
    Atomic explosions expected in Kiev and Tehran,
    Name of Moscow, expected to change in Tact
    Satellites decipher hieroglyphics mysteriously from the sky
    London alarmed by predictions of mediums:
    Georgia will have blood.

    You have decided on the grape squeezer as worn on the back of the oak
    My pine fluid, with gestures of dirty naked kissing
    As the place filled with flowers and shrimps,
    Meadows are the belly and breasts the mountains sprinkled with green
    The dead would emerge from underground wearing mole skins,
    And hunters running dogs in fields,
    The Kremlin will have killed sixty-six,
    When the devil becomes prime minister.

    Chronicler blinded by lack of truth,
    I will go to mount Sinai and ask the burning bush,
    On the one hand to hold the lamb, on the other a scepter,
    Then will I shout until God listens to the seventh heaven,

    “I was lost, how can I win,
    Hell is far away, not to roam the area which you burn,
    not to be depressed,
    the shaft that rules our soul,
    grinds with the utmost thought for Mother Teresa in Calcutta ”

    Then,
    Run-off in neat piles at a Jerusalem market
    I will buy salad,
    will cherish them mad English cows
    and Albanian parliamentarians.

    The sun emerges from the pool of galaxy and sneezing,
    Within your heart cemented as the atomic bomb against the bunker,
    You hate me because I shaved my head,
    I am a creature of love in error.

    Brussels, 07 November 2004

    SKIZS ICE
    BRILANTINE,
    LIMBO
    AND NOSTALGIA

    On the icy sky of brilliantine,
    hang thoughts, as well buckets over a deep basin,
    So when the toad reaches in,
    To cut away the clean surface of reflected sky
    We will have water to drink.

    Opinions will depend on how the grape blooms,
    Under Monday’s secret night out in February,
    The leaves will be our wildest conjectures,
    Trunk of vine, the dreams,
    Who will eat the berries,
    Does the fox flee,
    Through nightmares.

    Being in the mill is grinding her sex,
    As pure and poverty-stricken cows run to grass
    When you prepare a dog for hunting, do you wear boots?
    Since investigators do not distinguish a criminal from his tracks,
    And when I shoot a hare:
    do I send in cave bears?
    Let the cry of the Saudi people scream,
    Who killed the poor!

    Time is a meaningless stretch of matter,
    At the extremes of being,
    I miss ice-cream,
    In the winter night as he walks the streets like crazy,
    I’ll put out my rebellion,
    Monday will rob laughter brutally,
    (So ‌‌how will I tremble from fear of heaven itself?
    stars in the oil will be taken out)
    And singing a Viking song,
    Shall eat leisurely mounds as was a female,
    As it melts, and nothing is left
    Will focus on the Atomium to quench thirst,
    Viewing the only movie that I love and hate,
    “Commissioner Megre and others.”

    This Sunday, was not seen at the Royal Cathedral,
    Sad charlatan lovers on the run,
    But when I returned to the mailbox I found a paper labeled,
    Read: “You are an intractable beast,
    a devilish creature with no heart – to bitter laughter,
    which as punishment I replaced with another. ”
    (We had made love last night,
    not sex wiped up with toilet paper,
    had but failed to exchange kisses, …
    Can this be called Satanic!)

    Will send my reply with sour dreams,
    as do all poets without restart,
    “Pierce my chest with bombs and missiles,
    I will survive, you will die Remix of crackers,
    Yet you’re the only girl who lives deep inside my heart”

    On the icy sky with brilliantine,
    hang thoughts as well buckets over a deep basin,
    So when the toad reaches in,
    We would have died,
    without knowing love.

    By eating vegetables on Sunday morning,
    being half asleep from Brussels at night,
    I thought of fleeing Mentlerit,
    Daughter of Zodiac.

    It was later
    The rope was cut,
    Carried over the burning flesh of forgetting,
    We do not take our medicine
    nor can we wash our hands,
    No water, no fancy doing,
    Backs itching,
    In the basement of the house a cough is heard,
    Pertussis women with shaved legs free.

    Brussels, 21 January 2005
    SADLY CHILDREN KNOW
    THAT DISRUPTIVE FATHER

    Afternoons are distressing
    Above the glass plates with strawberry cream dessert,
    The remaining salad will be thrown turtle,
    In the aquarium with adjacent seats.

    Sadness over the woman who is pregnant,
    Coldness of the man who is sterile,
    The child will never know the real father,
    I will raise it in a rose garden.

    Beer is cold and tastes wonderful in Brussels
    I drink slowly and throw out a word without meaning,
    As the loser in all seasons,
    Beautiful asks if I drink coffee,
    secretly with eye-lit-blouse.

    Plateaus will fuse afternoon with the wind’s spirit,
    And rain will arrive on the clouds of heaven as a camel,
    The sun will be hidden by sneezing,
    Love his failures.

    And trains will leave the forest areas with grass,
    Toward the Netherlands where windmills roll,
    Where elephants cry like cows,
    And shepherds walk with horses.

    Diamonds of Antwerp in her eyes,
    As he brings the coffee to our table,
    And happy is the child in her womb;
    Opposite my deep sorrow.

    Brussels, 17 Mars 2006

  4. Poetry of Lek PERVIZI
    Live Peace

    All human beings
    That populate the earth
    They love Peace
    They want
    The end of all war
    Of all injustice
    Of all hatred
    Of all enmity

    They walk together
    An alive army
    They proclaim aloud
    Live peace
    Live the pacific connivance
    Between men
    Live freedom
    Live equality
    Live the brotherhood
    The three principles of Peace

    Men
    Unite you
    High you
    Your powerful voice
    Do you walk
    In the great march
    Of universal Peace
    Live Peace! Écouter
    Lire phonétiquement
     

    Live Peace

    All human beings
    That populate the earth
    They love Peace
    They want
    The end of all war
    Of all injustice
    Of all hatred
    Of all enmity

    They walk together
    An alive army
    They proclaim aloud
    Live peace
    Live the pacific connivance
    Between men
    Live freedom
    Live equality
    Live the brotherhood
    The three principles of Peace

    Men
    Unite you
    High you
    Your powerful voice
    Do you walk
    In the great march
    Of universal Peace
    Live Peace! Écouter
    Lire phonétiquement
     
    Message of Peace

    How to imagine peace
    As a beautiful girl
    Charming deity
    That comes from cosmic heights
    By bringing us
    His celestial love
    Happiness
    Peace?

    White dove
    Which fly free
    On the blue sky
    Which come to us
    To offer
    The olive branch
    The great message
    The message of Peace.

    Fly
    Fly
    White dove
    Around the world
    On all countries
    On all nations
    Proclaim to the people:
    Love one another
    Put an end to war
    To injustice
    To hostility
    To hate
    Unite yours
    Hands on hands
    In a human chain
    The chain of brotherhood
    Of the universal Peace!

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