IRMA KURTI

 

Time To Get Back

 

It’s time to get back to my days.

It’s been a century since you

knocked on my door. I do not

want to tell you anything about

my sleepless nights, those long

hours wrapped in melancholy,

how many times I stepped on

the subtle path of madness.

 

It’s time to get back to me, to

my gray days, and to wake me

up from lethargic sleep, erase

my anxieties with your smile,

and throw a ray of sunshine

in my life. I’ll be able to turn

it into the most vivid rainbow.

 

In The Mirror

 

I don’t know what this thought or feeling is.

Maybe it’s nothing, just a bit of drunkenness

from this spring that I live within these walls,

where the seasons don’t knock to greet me.

 

I don’t know what this emotion is; maybe it’s

a crumb, maybe a world ... a need of my soul,

eager and thirsty for some harmony and love.

For the first time, in the mirror, I see my smile.

 

Close To The Fire

 

Temperatures have dropped now

and snowflakes continue to fall,

the fire is burning in the hearth,

I don’t know why I feel so cold.

 

You are fleeing in the darkness,

your footsteps are now covered

with snow, my heart calls your

name in a loud and shaky voice.

 

My words, like heavy stones on

you; sorrow and repentance I’ve

inside of me. As you leave in the

moonless night, sitting close to the

fire, I feel that my heart’s freezing.

 

Amid The Pains

 

When you smile amid the pains,

Father, it is not like a ray of sun

in a cloudy sky, nor a rainbow in

the tempest, nor a happiness or a

joy that enlightens my heart.

 

When you smile amid the pains

that don’t leave your weak body,

I see the portrait of this life filled   

with beauty and pain, light and

shade, joy and despair, and then,

my fragility turns into strength.

 

The Walls Don’t Belong To Me

 

This magical sunset fixes snowflakes

as they fall confused and disorderly,

falling in love with each one of them.

 

I stay motionless in front of my house,

I don’t feel any desire to enter,

to be wrapped in its oppressive heat.

 

Tonight, the walls don’t belong to me

I am one with this white landscape,

it doesn’t let go, it keeps me hostage.

 

The snow melts, as part of the show,

thousands of crystals on my shoulders

just like infinite kisses given by love.

 

My soul is mutated into a light feather,

with snowflakes it wanders in the air,

I cannot escape from it; I have to wait.

 

And then, together turn home.

 

IRMA KURTI

 

IRMA KURTI is an Albanian poet, writer, lyricist, journalist, and translator and has been writing since she was a child. She is a naturalized Italian and lives in Bergamo, Italy. All her books are dedicated to the memory of her beloved parents, Hasan Kurti and Sherife Mezini, who have supported and encouraged every step of her literary path. Kurti has also won numerous literary prizes and awards in Italy and Italian Switzerland. She was awarded the Universum Donna International Prize IX Edition 2013 for Literature and received a lifetime nomination as an Ambassador of Peace by the University of Peace, Italian Switzerland. In 2020, she became the honorary president of WikiPoesia, the encyclopedia of poetry. In 2021, she was awarded the title of Liria (Freedom) by the Italian-Albanian community in Italy. In 2022, she was also nominated as the Albanian ambassador to the International Academic Award of Contemporary Literature Seneca of the Academy of Philosophical Arts and Sciences, Bari. She also won the prestigious 2023 Naji Naaman's literary prize for complete work. Irma Kurti has published 27 books in Albanian, 24 in Italian, 15 in English, and two in French. She has written approximately 150 lyrics for adults and children. She has also translated 17 books by different authors, and all of her own books into Italian and English. Her books have been translated and published in 14 countries.