A melancholic pentagram | Agron Shele


THIS TIME…

This time
When you hear the rain that falls over the bare trees from a bronze sky
And the rows of ravens all yellow
You ask yourself
Why only a tree stands tall?
In an empty park, lonely rotting day by day
Why do you care?
Maybe because that reminds you the time that has passed
And you feel more older than ever
Like a lonely bird abandoned when the winter comes
Surviving is the only chance

This time
When your thoughts are lost
And your face shows nothing more than sadness
In pale colours remained tattoo over your filthy skin
That is when you feel the touch of the last season
That is what reminds you of the long starry nights
All of this turns your spirit blue

…When the time passes
You can only see a rainbow that stares over an old church
Acrylic glass
You can only hear the whispers of monks as they go
But you can’t hear the bell
What does that means?
You feel like an old abused statue with crossed arms
You wait for your sins to be forgiven
If only it was that easy
But no, your demons consume your soul every day
Your disgusting devious eyes only stare at one thing
The only
The innocent saint Magdalene.



I KNOW

I know
One day, you will understand
Feathers stay as proof of a flying bird
No turning back
No shelter
Very angry
Far away
Anxiety of an escaped shadow

I know
That this emigration has nothing in common with rainy days
Neither the blooming flowers
It is an unusual escape towards time, when the air smells the pain of earth
Death of innocent leaves under the meaning of life until madness

I know
that the darkness brings lonely nights
No light, that gives you hope
No dreams, that give you freedom
No tomorrow
But only a dawn related to the shadows of life in chaos .
It feels like the poison of broken hopes

I know
that scream will destroy the walls of broken memories
And what is dead will return to life
No more envy trapped in a spider web
And the voracious crowds and Kings without crowns.


AUTUMN IN TIRANA

Autumn
In Tirana that is lost in water creeks
Through extended water drips in the windows of crystals
In the abandoned benches from all this unrest
In the naked trees all the way to forgiveness

Autumn
Even its returning tears of meditation instants
Forgotten old romances in memory
Returning painfully in the soft spirit
Yellow paper, of my diary

Autumn
In Tirana of the earlier step
Of a bench that is always naked with green flowers
Of the last glass dropped through ridges
Pieces of lips, skies of love

Autumn
And longing for passed times
For the deeming of light in the white soul
For the life thrown away through angles of reflections
For the abandoned leaves from all this demise

Autumn
And traces in every heart beat
For her…For someone…For love
Of after times that are knocked in so much noise

…And of autumn, a melancholic pentagram.


GOD

Every time we see the darkness of colours
and gorgeous become unsurpassed abysses
a simple eye returns towards you,
to you God,
and piety of hands of human weakness of its own shivering
from the peaks of sky were your throne has risen
and pray
for the light of salvation
while forgetting that fait hand their are nearby the heart
and branches of generations reaching up to you,
hidden roots
fractured desire
daily deaths in every instant
and awakening with first sunrise
to push the wheel of world forward.
to bring a soul that is delighted
and grabs another one in order to return into a sand and elaborate the image

Bells are sounding more often these time
And attention focused towards her sounds, echoes of abandoned streets for much time
eternal music that goes through the summit covered by angels
spread into genres, that inserts deeper into the niches of memory
and thoughts are erupting our senseless acts
moving on a chandelier that brightens the wounds of a wrinkled moon
to show that mysterious travel
departed towards the gates of marble
and looking upon turns that gated windows from other world

Someone is calling in this pat hand turbulence
You name it: absolute, light, sorrow or silence
but he will scream again,
because the stained creature has placed him in danger
heavily without any hope, without a light, without a sou
and suddenly today returned has face towards him,
to gather the blessing and forget it tomorrow
while God is ascending with his nails and struggling
towards the divine justice
towards the limits of our fragile flesh
where everybody is a dust lost in the winds
and every life is a relinquishing of a blessed breath.


A WOMAN

Do not expect her to walk
in the cold streets with her scarf over one shoulder
Or tap the heels on the silent memories
nor mirroring her image in the shops window
because her effulgence
is stronger then the sun
that warms the ice transforming it in to a candle
touching the marrow of the earth
breaking the myths of winter
that die at the irises and yet
are resurrected
to embrace the light

An image that appears at the shine of stars
and with her the wind extends the hair
to a forest where the deers are sleeping
the tracks of their hooves are printed on the snow
like a magic hidden in lightning
slaves of fate and troubled dance
towards that image
that god himself created
holiness
in the kingdom of every living breath

Do not expect her to be weakened
because pain walks with her blood
and the blood with the feeling of eternity
like a deity
of the force that lifts gods to their feet
the angels, everyday
understanding the silence
of the turn of centuries
because the life is more than one attempt
that walks through the gates of the rainbow
and opens the doors of life
to the smile of a woman!



Translated into English by Peter Tase


AGRON SHELE was born in October 7th, 1972, in the Village of Leskaj, city of Permet, Albania. He is author of the following literary works: “The Steps of Clara” (Novel), “Beyond a grey curtain” (Novel), “Wrong Image” (Novel) , “Innocent Passage” (Poetry), Whiste stones ( poetry) RIME SPARSE -Il suono di due voci poetiche del Mediterraneo (Poesie di Agron Shele e Claudia Piccinno),  La mia Musa (“Libri di-versi in diversi libri” – Italy, 2020); “Ese-I and Ese-II) ” . He is also coordinator of International Anthologies: “Open Lane- 1,” “Pegasiada , Open Lane- 2, ATUNIS magazine ( Nr 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 )” and Atunis Galaxy Antholgy 2018, 2019, 2020.  He is winner of some international literary prizes. He is a member of the Albanian Association of Writers, member of the World Writers Association, in Ohio, United States, Poetas del Mundo, WPS, Unione world Poetry and the President of the International Poetical Galaxy “Atunis”. He is published in many newspapers, national and international magazines, as well as published in many global anthologies: Almanac 2008, 2017; World Poetry Yearbook 2009, 2013, 2015,  The Second Genesis -2013, Kibatek 2015-Italy, Metafora (Poland),  Keleno- Greece,  etc.  Currently Resides in Belgium and continues to dedicate his time and efforts in publishing literary works with universal values.




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