Sea
O sea,
you who breathe
out all the pain of the earth
and raise the
waves like a storm
like the mane of
a mad horse,
or gray hair
like a commotion.
Clashed by
distant echoes
and turned into
foam
washed in the
eyes of a nymph
a pantheon of
greatness!
O sea,
the currents are
your traces
driven in the
pain of centuries
always wandering
unknown islands
in the long wait
of circuses.
The divine
beauty of the harp that sweetly invites
to the last loop
of pain
of the agony
that torments the body.
O sea,
you who resemble
the wrath of God
and seek peace
through self-sacrifice
somewhere you
snatch the tears of a woman
and fill the
fearful depth.
I don't know
what your sorrow hides
and what white
sails sink
dead maps
in your darkness
great losses of
love.
I see your tired
length
and the cries of
wandering heroes
sailors of fate
struggling,
to meet the
first shore.
That shore that
connects two worlds
and a single
rainbow transcends
the colors of
infinite colors
dissolved in
endless ribbons.
Your murmuring
voice
in the language
of seagulls
returned
a humble cry of
the air
in a forgotten
corner of glances.
The abandoned
path of time
and you are
buried beneath
the open gates
of Poseidon
the kingdom of
the latest god.
O sea, body and
soul of a siren,
that pours a
thousand cups of sorrow
and raises
monstrous waves of temptation.
Extend the
boundaries of the white waves
the shore that
awaits your step.
The only moment
of recognition;
a wave in waves
turned
to a river
extinguished in longing.
O sea,
how far does
your boundary go
the horizon that
hides the great unspeakable
the magic that
blinds the eyes from afar
the mysticism
that immerses in other thoughts,
the mornings
that are born in thousands of blinding
and die in the
evening in the last sunsets.
I don't know why
your ghost trembles
and my heart
melts at the last limit
there these
waves echo the cry
of the only bird
of flight,
an albatross
that spreads its wings
to your anger,
the echo of the war
between the sky
and the gods
emptied in flame
and lightning.
Poured among the
tears of Erato
for the cup that
fell in the breast
the only sign of
recognition
lost in the
darkest frost,
searching for
the soul in blindness
among the hair
that is stained
with a wind of
pain that knows no bounds
rising the
typhoon of the rocks.
A *Calliope
looks down from above
and her eyes
turn blue
where the
ribbons shine
in the clear sun
reflection
of a *Euterpe
who dies and is resurrected
Orpheus' lyre
from afar
passage of the
mad Melpomene
arrived so
loudly at "I".
A *Thetis has
thrown away the crown
for her son who
remained her property
in a Troy that
burns with fire
and a Helen who
returns after,
for an Odysseus
who runs for decades
and a Penelope
who waits and waits,
crossing the bow
of the ring
she restores the
lost love.
O sea,
you who vent all
the pain of the earth
and raise the
storm waves,
nine muses and
nine ships you drown
to hide the
feverish wrath
and today
hundreds of innocent lives
wander dead
hopes
in your kingdom
of cruelty
and pride raised
to the sky.
It is not
forgiveness that you pity,
nor an oracle
that rules you,
you are the tip
of the iceberg of the coldest frost
wave upon wave
of the wrinkled globe
and blue is the
color of the human soul.
©Translated Into
English By Merita Paparisto
AGRON SHELE
AGRON SHELE was born in Albania. Is the author of the following literary
works: Poetry books, Novels and Short Stories. He has published 19 books, 13
anthologies and a serial of mgazines and newspapers in Albanian and many languages!
He is President of the International Poetical Galaxy “Atunis” and coordinator
of International Atunis Galaxy Antholgy. He is the winner of international
literary prizes. He is published in many newspapers, national and international
magazines. Currently resides in Belgium.
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