Jeton Kelmendi graduated at the Free University of Brussels, Belgium in International and Security Studies, after that he earned a Master’s Degree in Diplomacy. For many years he has written poetry, prose, essays and short stories. He is author of many books and a regular contributor to many newspapers, writing on many cultural and political topics, especially concerning international affairs. His poems are translated in more than twenty-two languages and published in several international Literature Anthologies. Currently resides and works in Brussels, Belgium. He is member of International PEN club Belgian Francophone, Brussels Belgium. |
One Word Grew In The Earth Of The Tongue
I spoke to myself
The broken strings of the legend
It is good
To keep them in our hands
With good thoughts
Which always stay alone
Relax once in a while near the fireplace
You have never been like today
In a blink of an eye
One word
Grew in the earth of the tongue
And grew until the sky
Laid her roots until the darkest areas
Today is taking care of tomorrow
After
Waters and entire soils
One verse of the poet
Together with his lightening
Farewell said the cold
We will meet
One day between the hills
Beyond My Power
With the shoulder beyond my
Power
Patience at the peak were it meets the sky
Was kept
By the breath that releases silence
That softens the morning stress.
What
To do to ourselves
In order not to wait
and come behind us
The arrival has departed
Then she is late and was born
Nevertheless alone
Places the dots over the word
And waits
Doesn’t know when there is time
In that temple places two stones
Together
One for herself and the other
For the word
And welcome continues
As if
We knew the game
We would grow together
With the trust.
Under the shade of memory
I told you something forgotten
The things that you will not remember even tomorrow
Forgiveness is always much more ancient
When silence is traveling
At the oak dried from the sun
I am awaiting you
In the same line with the verse
Hung in the abyss of the mountain
There I await only love
And I sat to relax
I tried to
Exhaust the autumn or to dream the light
Only to say a word
Protest
We exhausted even the last hours
Of this day
My mind went in everything step by step
And
You are late
As the word is being measured after your
shade
I saw on the clock on the wall
Sunday gave her order to the clock
To welcome the next week
It seemed
That a few minutes were slipping from the fingers
Of my hand
And the heart would open its door
From that step that you never did
Were are the words
In which the anti dreams are mixed within
Your feet
While the time mixes the memories
Why, Verse, are you bothering me today
When my fatherland and my girl are
Far away
And myself is far away, so very far
There came the word that I never said
As high as the peak of Monte Verde
Raised myself
And you, my lady friend continue to sleep far away
Usually
At night you are far away
Trespassing my borders
And myself,
Only being quiet and play
With the days.
The Galway Review 