Monday, October 1, 2018




They humiliate me, they call me “quean”
They draw my portrait with a paintbrush of nail,
They spot me like the black sheep separated from the herd...
And accuse me for writing avant-garde poetries,
What should I do, that my poetry is what feeds the soul
Not only for me, but also for women with childish smiles,
That read my poetries secretly from their men
Like “The apple of sin” cause of the disgusting moral,
That triumphs across the crowd as an honest one.
But what should I do, that my sinful poetries
Scare even the shepherd,
Who after reading these poetries with thirsty hunger,
Runs with his stick in hands to punish me...!

The disgusting moral tries to rip out my veins of feeling
To kill my poetic spirit, to change its destination, colours...
But I’m not afraid of him, I write screaming,
I tack in every verse cell, like a bloody flower
For love, for the woman’s eyes crying, wounded,
For the tired soul, exhausted from the desecration of morality.

The angry notes of the preachy crowd tremble,
My fingers dive in the metaphors of life,
Where the membranes take fire in the verse of poetry...
The voice of God, tells me: there is life in darkness,
There is hope in the desert, light in the blindness,
Spirit of love, there is balance in the universe,
Even the wounded sounds pulse in deafness...
My white, strong despair doesn’t tremble
Even as they insult me, offend my morality...
I am a WOMAN, I keep writing poetries for love,
The one pure, attractive road that gives me life,
The soul scream that in front of the verse makes me die...!


Twenty-first century
Wanders i kullandrisur on victims
The weapons barrage fall over innocent people.
The blood drops flow like water on world screens…
My mother’s soul suffers…
Wailings and injustices murmur…
I see even the sun sapless
The candlesticks of the new human have been discolored
The shoulders of soul couldn’t bear the horror loads!

We see little snakes, large, greedy ones
They convert into vampires in front of humans…
The feet soles with blood traces
Step on the pain of thousands of women around the world…

Shshëëtt, shshëëtt... shshëëtt....
Keeps murmuring the love silently killed…
The soul of women howls from the abyss:
Expunge the grudge, erase the envy, extinguish the infidelity,
Bring the light to our eyes!
The scarf of love
Tie it around your soul tight human,
Shine light on the space, and goodness for the humans!

Often the pray and beg in front of the icon:
St, Mary, pray for the lives of our children,
Heal this century of storms…
Punish the evil, the voracity,
The traffic sale of freedom for the small nations!
Bless the peace for the people in this world…


The furious winds of centuries,
It casted in the chest of innocent angels,
The time was freaking out and
It became calamity….
My submerged and down- hearted mother,
Janina was freaked out,
at what she sawwww,Jaaaaninoooooo
" It was Friday,- that dayyyyyy,-Jaaaaaninooooooo”

Ah, dear mother;
“what’s that trembling voice,
as it’s coming from the legend,
Shuddering the ancestors’bones in each cell.”

Eh, my dear daughter,
I know pretty well that disaster,
Storming and raining at that time,
The bloody stars’re falling down one by one,
The skull of moon there lied upon our motherland,
Mourning the tenders and blooding the meadows,

Please mother, do not tell me just blood, blood,…..Ohhhhhhh!

It’s true my daughter!
It’s shedding blood in our albanian land.
The bloodstained land by the savage corps,
It’s still sighting in my eyes,
The century-long rocks’re dicered by the grief and pain,
It changed the shapes, colores and labels,
I couldn’t soak even the shadow of my thumb,
For writing the name upon a tomb,
Near the cradle, where I cried for the first time.
Oh God,
How much grief, pain and tears,
It has been gulping down this earth,
And even the sun is flunking on my feet,
My tears are pungented on my eyelashes,
Where the grey brows’re groaning,
It’s Chameria…

Janina was freaked out,
at what she sawwww, Jaaaaninoooooo

Please, dear mother,
Do not wailing, it’s breaking my heart,
Oh my daughter, I’ll keep wailing till I bore out,
Like that is the history!

(Note: This poem represents the history of the poet ancestors, who have experienced the most inhuman Golgotha done to the common folk of Chameria, violently removed in 1943 from their lands by the Greek Nazi policies)


FATIME KULLI, poet, writer, publicist, journalist. Fatime Kulli was born on 1957 in Durrës. She finished her higher studies in Social Science for Psychology at University of Tirana. Fatime Kulli, is an author of 20 books, poetry, prose, researches, literary critics, awarded with several prizes inside the country and abroad: Award "Radio Ulcinj" Montenegro (2000). "Golden Pen" for the book “The Sea sinks inside the shell” in Kumanova, Macedonia (2001). First place for the most beautiful lyric poetry about love, on Balkan Poetry meetings in Korça (2003). “Golden Pen” in Athens (2004). Second place, at the poetry meetings in Napoli, Italy (June 2004). First Prize at the Meeting of Women Poets, Vushtri June 2008, Kosovo. “Skampini” Prize on Balkan Poetry Meetings in Elbasan (14 March 2009). First Prize in Balkan  Poetry meetings in Korça (2010). She has participated in several international poetic meetings. Author in several anthologies of poetry, in many countries, such as Greece, Germany, France, Macedonia, Kosovo, Croatia, Romania etc. She has been awarded at the Academy of Sciences, Tirana (14 June 2014) with the title "Ambassador of Peace", as the poet of Çameria, by the Universal Federation of Peace.

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