Sunday, April 1, 2018




How fare and how close,
With knees that remain through the times of sadness,
Spreading through grey waves of confusion
To genuine soul, anger and sadness.

How far and hour close,
We the owners of freedom and angst
In the bridges and lost horizons
In the intersections of turbulent fates.

How far and how close,
In the magic that has appeared at dawn
With thirst after an empty pride
And through the streets without a return.

How far and how close,
Touching the whitest dreams
At tomorrow’s hope and frightens
At the simplest humility, greatness.


My fatherland!
Exhausted and suffering up to the last point
Exhausted and suffering all the way to becoming drunk,
From the weight of fearful time,
And fatality of the offense of nations.

My fatherland!
A time of screams from your centuries,
Raised over fires and fortresses of legends,
Bloody wounds by sleeping martyrs
A challenge of fate for the brave.

My fatherland!
Twisted from the waves of our tributes
Lackeys rose over podiums of pain,
Exalted crowds all the way to craziness,
Undersigned of heretical time.

My fatherland!
A song of the first bird in the morning
A wind of earth covered by green flowers
A muse of skies always in azure
A summer flower always shining.

My fatherland!
A hope and praying ground of your sons
A suffer of sacrilegious raised over freedom
An ancient root of the human foundation
An eternal voice on the last passions.


We poets!
...of the word and pain of earth.
Active in turbulent days.
Birds of a thunderstorm are raised suddenly.

We poets!
Of the word and muse of soul.
A flame of passion burned in the heights.
A flower blossoming in depth.

We poets!
Of the word and vibrating time
A leaf of autumn ruined intentionally.
Spring blossoming returned again.

We poets!
Of the word and white dawn.
Adjacent to the plane absorbed in kilometers of heights.
Swallowed around torn skies.

We poets!
Of the word and undeclared dream.
Thunderstorm of stars shaped in disorder
And drops of rain in sorrowful evenings

We poets!
Of the word and lost in meditation.
An open canvas, traces of colors scintillating
Migrants of the so called “cosmopolitan”.


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.

1 comment :

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