You Can’t Leave To A Different Time
I travel through time
following trails of imagination full of wishes
round and round my thoughts
can’t find an open door
to a different time,
a door that takes me to where I want
to love a bit better,
to stay longer
If I was a Northern Wind
I’d blow over valleys and peaks, tonight
I’d bend oak trees and plis hats alike,
I’d change this time:
into a different one.
I’d open the doors to hope
and I’d be full of hope
for a better time
If I was a Ray of Sunlight
over the prettiest necks in the city I’d lie
Wow! What warmth
winking with love’s eye,
distracted
fingers running through disheveled hair
this would be the talk
but one can’t just leave to a different time
If I were the one I’m not
to a different time I’d leave,
but, damn, I am who I am
oblivion’s last letter
left for a different time,
the way valuables are kept,
unlike food at a gleeful feast
for today
one can’t leave to a different time.
I Sat At The Beginning Of My Self
I sat
on my memory
and waited and waited
until all conclusions
I began anew.
The truth faded the dreams, until
the meaning lost its meaning,
time said it belonged to the devil’s time.
belief turned into disbelief,
a wicked time strengthening the evils
hope and desire turned to illusion,
it must’ve been their time, the untrue truth,
the silent word.
and it is I who woke up
from my memory
asleep in your remembrance
reawakened.
I saw
crumbs after time’s footsteps, crumbling
the future
leaning on patience
in the peel of time, lustfully
I can’t run after myself
I have to end it.
I rested
until the unthinkable seasons
were tired of running
until the rest is rested
that’s when I woke up.
Woken from its bed
a late night’s autumn and the moon.
Flooded tomorrow’s thoughts
love became a sea of love,
together we swam until ecstasy.
Now, I wait and see
and it looks like that time I sat
at the beginning of myself
but the words struggle to stay awake
like they did that one night.
I’ll Tell You Something
From my mouth
From my soul, strange
thoughts emerge
sometimes they appear leaving
other times arriving
from a different world
than our own
I know that many of them
are slightly less than few
and that their language is unspoken
unwritten,
but I say it is somewhere.
somewhere between me and you, my life
lived oh so fast
And while all languages have alphabets
of their own, so begins
this language of ours
with our failure to understand
new beginnings
And time, an island inhabited by timelessness
giving time to those without time
followed by a group of wordless words
at the border crossing of
spirit-mind
I hide from myself
so my hearing doesn’t see me
so my sight doesn’t hear me
as it happens with other things.
It’s better to know
languages unspoken, timeless
like what we talk
up the hill of
meaningless meanings.
Complying with my strangeness
and nothing else,
let this game have
rules
So that afterwards
whoever hears the results
someone will win and someone will lose.
I Brought Myself With Me
I.
Firstly
a narrow street
barely to keep me, to bring it with me
then to walk on until where I was fist off,
where the meaning begins
in chaos
my dreams appeared
as one day I began to see
waking dreamscapes
I brought myself to school
and teacher Ukë’s guidance,
I’ll carry until the beyond
where meanings are abound
life has its own desires
and so does love
albeit endless
we will come after the awakening
of the light,
you can never tell
human fate
there is destiny in this journey.
II.
And after you crossed somewhere
just the first steps
of your life’s journey
my own fate begins to attain
gratitude expressed in courage
for the upcoming days,
for the farseeing eye, expressive faith
if there is truth
you need courage to believe
I brought myself
to the occupied homeland
to the end of my suffering
this whole waking reverie
with sunsets almost extinguished
one day it just broke out, the war in Kosovo began
and they said: from now on innocence is guilty
they baptized Death with their names
and Freedom with their surnames.
III.
I did what I did
and brought myself here
now I’ve got all the time
to deal with
myself
hauled through time
Do whatever you like,
but don’t forget the long roads
on history’s wrinkled forehead.
Dare To Be A Hero
Over my shoulders I carried fear and courage
until now
to this day, folded
upon no one’s time, untimed
with difficult journeys, bravery
face to face with fear,
how far can you carry the faith
which can’t be further trusted
neither in wild humans, nor
journeys, and upcoming new days,
uncertain loves
well, then, love,
this juicy ripened apple
forgotten within human soul
describing to the passerby
the taste of spirit’s pain.
II.
Carrying within my heart
life’s joys and sorrows
possibilities and impossibilities
thoughts and intentions
all reasonable
expected and exact arrivals
oh what chaotic events
coming and going
and yet again
can’t hide the predictions
about a different time
one needs courage to dare
to believe in love.
times on the walls of folded time
determine directions, of a road longer
than the change of a season
to another
twilight of times
into the years of my life.
III.
My love for you, I carried in my mind
the end is endless for
whomever confuses the steps of departure
the getaway will be after them
to split the directions in two
to understand that life moves
just as the wind blows
Somewhere there’s a ruse that can trick dreams
but those realities are not good
like in my pretty stories
the game goes on through
disregard for the regard
of events that link us
with the world
of faith with courage
beyond fear
and the most fearsome valor.
Before I Write
I don’t need no humaly beauties,
women adorned by eyes, mind and spirit
poetry is no art
if not written deeper
than the vigor’s end.
how can I call myself a poet
I can’t measure living reveries
with a couple of dreams
even if they’re the prettiest
like these words awaiting to be written
thusly ideas flow, like
life
with selected words, previously
unwritten,
thoughts as big as silence
give meaning to events, this writing
for you
for my verse
for your new attitude
Lake Como, oh what sights
and tall peaks beyond,
sun bestowing its rays, so
we can’t see each other through
the window at the balcony
and I didn’t see anything else
and I started writing
poetry
let go now of our conquering sight
let go of your writing too,
I wrote over my soul
an event
the envy of all
told me,
and we begun climbing uphill
with no end in sight
I didn’t close the door on the conversation
I let it get in
and my words grew into sentences and phrases
I got nowhere to go, it said,
therefore,
writing has roots this deep
and can’t be so easily unsaid.
time leads time,
I was its event
while this poem came to be.
I’m Waiting For You
I’m waiting for you
beyond my possibilities
in the nowhere’s somewhere
the wait continues
if the arrival and departure make sense
and are reasonable
I meet you
in the pages of closed books
and the titles of forgotten poems,
I seek you
through the many thoughts, when
the absence comes forth,
and thusly
you overcame all my waitings
We walk together
through unknown streets, that
only I see in my dreams
that’s how I wait for you
even when someone else waits for you
it is still me doing the waiting
I don’t talk about you anymore
my thoughts are spent,
it’s been enough
all those times I waited
at the beginning of myself
for you to pass by.
I Am Somewhere
And That’s Good Enough
I am somewhere, I live somehow
beyond the point of remembrance
in the unspoken sentence of patience
I dwell somewhere
at the end of self, down there
if the meaning recognizes me,
I am happy
I find myself
within my tired sorrow,
previously unseen
not even in a dream,
I saw time sliding from my
hands
and I was convinced
that my absence does not exist
so that I look everywhere
to find myself
I got no more qualms,
I know you took all its traces
with you
and that I don’t have any questions,
it suffices that
I remember your name.
The Origins of Love
The meaning of life is,
the reason to walk towards tomorrow,
a dream
that everyone has the right to see
such a creature
everyone wants if for themselves, for
their own people
even though it doesn’t know from whence
love came, and where it goes to
while you don’t know its origins,
it’s a secret,
hidden like the air that
time has brought through us
until here
every time they talk about
the origins of love,
the wise ones wrote
definitions and theories,
formulas, and poetry too,
but, one thing’s for sure,
no one knows for sure
One thing you gotta’ understand,
without claiming you’re inventing
some big thing,
love is born each day
each night,
in the afternoon, after midnight.
simply, seen anytime
anywhere
and if that’s the case,
where does love live then,
where does life love,
where, then, is its
origin, location, timespan!
A theory is overthrown by
another one,
as one season follows another
until a year turns a leaf.
origin is the meaning
both obvious
and obscure.
Love comes from God
only He
knows its origin.
A Revalation
I don’t need big words, praises,
colors of thought, chaotic ideas
about myself, this is not correct
until we reach the point of truthfulness
If truth had any power
it wouldn’t let the fraud talk
with such truthfulness
that’s how time did it with itself,
as it splashed in memory
pieces of my times
I think of something unknown
with an abundance of courage and
drowsy meanings
desires woven, with love,
the spring of events flowed
full of incidents,
for the unknowns, for the unexpected
a new discovery this one
That’s how today
a new variant of an old day
seasons come and go -- beyond they walk
for life has one direction -- death
and we journey that away
Now, I myself overcame so many
deaths
only because I trusted life
with my longest dream
I didn’t put glasses on my thought
to look truth in the eye
and I insanely believed that
the meaning will see me,
but it’s not correct
to not end
this beginning
the pasts and the presents
crucify tomorrow
except beauty, everything else follows
its own flow
like this revelation.
JETON KELMENDI
Prof. Dr. Jeton Kelmendi: Poet, player, publicist, translator, publisher and
a professor of university and academic. Born in the city of Peja, Kosovo
(1978), Jeton Kelmendi completed elementary school in his birth place. Later he
continued his studies at the University of Pristina and received the degree of
Bachelor of Arts in Mass communication. He completed his graduate studies at
the Free University of Brussels, Belgium, specializing in International and
Security Studies. He finished his second master degree in diplomacy. Kelmendi
did a PhD in the “Influence of media in EU Political Security Issues”. He is
professor at AAB University College. He is active member of the European
Academy of Science and Arts in Salzburg Austria. For many years he has written
poetry, prose, essays and short stories. He is a regular contributor to many
newspapers, in Albania and abroad, writing on many cultural and political
topics, especially concerning international affairs. Jeton Kelmendi became well
known in Kosova, after the publication of his first book entitled: “The Century
of Promises” (“Shekulli i Premtimeve”), published in 1999. Later he published a number of other books.
His poems are translated in more that twenty-seven languages and published in
several international Literature Anthologies. He is the most translated
Albanian Poet and well known in Europe. According to a number of literary
critics, Kelmendi is the genuine representative of modern Albanian poetry.
International critics and poets wrote for him a lot of article, considering him
as great European poet. He is a member of many international poetry clubs and
is a contributor to many literary and cultural magazines, especially in
English, French and Romanian Languages. The wisdom of his work in the field of
Literature is based in the attention that he pays to the poetic expression,
modern exploration of the text and the depth of the message. His Genre is focused more on love lyrics and
elliptical verse intertwined with metaphors and artistic symbolism. Currently
resides and works in Brussels, Belgium and in Pristina, Kosovo.
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