Agron Shele, Albania/Belgium

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    Agron Shele, Albania/Belgium. Member of IWABOGDANI 

    Agron Shele was born in October 7th, 1972, in the Village of Leskaj, city of Permet, Albania. Is the author of the following literary works: “The Steps of Clara” (Novel), “Beyond a grey curtain” (Novel), “Wrong Image” (Novel) , “Innocent Passage” (Poetry) and “Ese-I ” . Mr. Shele is also the coordinator of International Anthologies: “Open Lane- 1,” “Pegasiada , Open Lane- 2 and ATUNIS magazine ( Nr 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 )”. 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, World Poetry Yearbook 2009, 2013, 2015, The Second Genesis -2013, Kibatek 2015-Italy, Keleno- Greece, etc. Currently Resides in Belgium and continues to dedicate his time and efforts in publishing literary works with universal values.

    Translated by Peter Tase

    1- White Light

    A white light,

    Wakened in the waters of my soul,

    Over the wings of a flying bird

    Just as once before…

    A mirror of a reborn life in turmoil

    Just as today…

    Kidnapped from warm verses in rebellion.

    White hope,

    A voice of life colors without borders

    An open canvas of colors brighten

    Beautiful

    Just as dreams of nights of no return

    Thunderstorm,

    Of a burning star, steaming hot.

    White word,

    Raised in the high benches of thoughts

    Carved in ancient mythology of trust

    Poured,

    In fiery horizons of the west.

    White life,

    a broken mirror of crossed fates

    a deep sea of kidnapped sorrows

    just as snow…

    Dissolved in the first rays of craziness

    Just as a leaf…

    Lost in a freezing autumn universe.

    2- My dreams are there

    My dreams are there,

    Just like thousands of icebergs in an endless ocean.

    Mind penetrates all the way flying,

    In other skies, trips “endless”.

    My dreams are there,

    In spring skies, with many stars

    Pieces of feelings crumble a soul

    And turned magic into a cloth.

    My dreams are there,

    Just like light whitening, in sun rise.

    With longing of autumn in a chest

    And …points of rain – sorrow.

    My dreams are there

    Over rainbow arches, colors of thoughts;

    A white day, hope and happiness,

    Trenches are twisted, poetry rebellion.

    My dreams are there

    Formatted in a great feeling…

    A view thrown in a dark sky

    Breathing margins – a statue shape.

    3- On the ‘Sivenston’ Park

    In ‘Sivenston’ Park is quiet,

    silence,

    abandoned,

    Lost benches in a heretic time.

    A frozen lake and forgotten wings

    Of white swans dissolved in migration.

    On ‘Sivenston’ park is cold,

    Freezing,

    wind is blowing.

    A snow that feels with crystallised snow flocks,

    Steps are knocking, slow motions

    Flip flaps of enlarged shadows.

    ‘Sivenston’ park, a broken vision,

    Worlds are crossed,

    Awaiting for water flows,

    Shapes of symbols painted on lips

    Mirages and dreams of broken memories.

    “Sivenston’ Park an infinite vision

    Whiteness,

    a thrill of fates.

    Among clouds and nights an icy longing,

    Sleeps below the forest naked and alone.

    4- 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 spirits

    Yellow paper, of my diary.

    Autumn,

    In Tirana of the earlier steps,

    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, e melancholic pentagram.

    5- You were lost…

    You were lost completely unexpectedly in the intersection of roads,

    without lights,

    not even green lights with the colors of poets

    you were lost through the clouds of thoughts

    dissolved after the suffering screams of soul.

    You were lost in the rainbows that wait colors

    Infinitely prisms of the sky that is broken

    In the broken wings creeks of seagulls

    From waterfalls that descend through thousands of dances

    A twist of clouds and much dew.

    You were lost in the stars a thunderstorm of the west

    Dreams that are meek on angel looking wings

    A phantasm of peaks that touch fantasy

    Of fiery loves,

    That darkness suffers.

    You were lost deeply in the sea’s blue color

    And through tornadoes that shake lives

    A tip of the iceberg that touch the blueness

    …And of fates,

    Beliefs of desires that are sinful to anyone

    You were lost in the first depth of winter

    Icebergs of feelings frozen in the park,

    …decorating the childish life without luck

    From pain

    And the cold is frightened with sadness.

    You were lost deeply in view

    From eyes that touch endless horizons,

    Eyebrows that are tired from the days of waiting

    And the last tears

    Glassy crystal washed by sadness.

    Lost misunderstanding a life of abandonment

    Of scenarios of symphony of pain

    Of times that have gone swiftly without notice

    Turbulent over feelings

    Living under worry

    You were lost in the shelves of writing books

    And of the ink that is erased from this forgiveness

    Waves of words burned in passions

    Waves of words burned in love.

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