With yellow worn out colors
Our beautiful girl is living
In the seasons of rose color…
Lefter Shomo is a seasoned poet from Albania
Lefter Shomo (Eleuterio Sciomo) was born in 1948 in the city of Delvina (Albania). In 1974 he graduated from the University of the Higher State Agricultural Institute. After university, he graduated in Greek, Italian and French with the state diploma. In 1990, he defended his scientific thesis for the title of Science Candidate. Lefter Shomo is the first teacher who opened the Italian course in the city of Delvina, starting in high school and then privately in 1989. Shomo has been writing poetry since his youth. Recently he is preparing two collections of poetry in Albanian and Greek. Lefter Shomo has translated poems by famous Albanian and foreign poets, including many famous authors.
SEASONS OF ROSE COLOR
SEASONS OF ROSE COLORThey strip the trees
Like a skinned scenery
They carry what is dead around
All the coldness of this winter
On the earth’s ground
A leafy nest, a fluffy rug,
The dressing of the season
A basket that is full
On the girl’s inner shoulder
A little leaf springs up
It reminds her of the order
That the above come down
And the other like a pigeon
The north wind as it beats it through
It nests in her palmy fingers
A paper message to bring to her
It starts as a newborn leaf
From the flower’s hooking stem
From the little eye of the branch
A goldfinch that soars the wind
The newborn leaf flies
And stands upon the blouse
A present for this autumn
A butterfly peculiar
It carries reflections
Summers and springs
Beauty and brightness
As it blossomed in this life
And if Nature fills
With yellow worn out colors
Our beautiful girl is living
In the seasons of rose color…
***
ΜY HANDS
Hands of labor
Tools of beauty
Embracing and loving
All of creation
In the palms of these hands
Like flower gardens of tiredness
Grow trees, flower buds,
And enormous forests..
In the palms of my hands
I hold friends that are chosen
Friends at my happy moments
That are doctors for my pain
All my embrace can fit in
Acres of oceans
Beautiful people
From all over the world..
A machine of prosperity
Are my arms of labor
Full of calluses and nerves
That continuously build
They are hands of sweat
Blossoms of humanity
The injustice and rotting
Always to demolish…
Eternal warriors
Of labor and life
Bullets of battles
Soldiers with arrows
They rebuild the ruins
From the very-very start
My bees are my hands
Carriers of honey..
My hands rosebuds
Of earning this life
Seas of crops
That are always being produced
With these hands’ palms
The fingers are actors
Of happiness and music
A forest of deep caress and touching
They are fans of sensational love..
Let’s make our hands ropes
To weave hammocks
On every road
Going to and fro
As if in our mother’s embrace
And only the very sweet dreams
That will be produced in this way
That belong to this very world
We are deeply living in…
(Translated by Vasiliki Kalahani)
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Coordinated by Angela Kosta, the Executive Director of the Magazines: MIRIADE, NUANCES ON THE PANORAMIC CANVAS, BRIDGES OF LITERATURE, journalist, poet, essayist, publisher, literary critic, editor, translator, promoter
