Agron Shele, Albania/Belgium

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.