Love is crazy – Poetry from Albania

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Coast_south_of_Vlorë_-_panoramio
A highway in southern Vlorë leading to Orikum, Albania

Love is crazy, love is mad,

Knows no home, knows no border,

In an instant, at two places,

It is here and it is there.

Delo Isufi, a renowned poet from Albania, shares his poetry

Delo Isufi- Albania-Sindh CourierDelo Isufi, born in Vlora on July 15, 1944, has lived in Tirana, Albania since 1953. After graduating from high school, from 1962-1966 he completed his studies at the Higher Aviation Academy, where he graduated as a Fighter Pilot. He was appointed a lecturer at the Academy. He then completed his studies, specializing in the Republic of China for supersonic aircrafts. As a pilot, he flew in all weather conditions, at night and in difficult meteorological conditions for 26 years, with high duties and the rank of Colonel (from 1966 to 1992). Being a pilot, in 1974 he completed his studies at the State University of Tirana, at the Faculty of Political and Legal Sciences, where he graduated as a Lawyer. From 2002 to 2006 he was a Lawyer of the General Advocacy of the State, and finally a General Advocate of the Albanian State. He has published eleven books of this nine books of poetry, one novel, two books of translation, Indian Poems. He also translated Serbian poems. Meanwhile he was also editor of some Poetry books etc. He knows several foreign languages. He has been working as a lawyer since 1992.

Panoramic_photo_of_Lungomare_area_in_Vlorë
Panoramic photo of Lungomare area in Vlorë

Love is crazy

Snow covers the ground here,

To you the wind rain pours,

With the sun you send the kiss,

Eight hours after arriving at me.

Wait a voice comes from afar,

Wait to come where you live,

Love is crazy, love is mad,

Warming in snow and dry in rain.

Love is crazy, love is mad,

Knows no home, knows no border,

In an instant, at two places,

It is here and it is there.

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The_monument_of_Independence_in_Vlorë_(Vlora)
Monument of Independence on the Flag’s Square

HOW BEAUTIFUL IS MY HEAD!

My mother suffered more

The day that I was born,

I was born by foot, no by head,

And the head was too great.

Later, I started to walk in ground

My head dragged me down.

Foal, it seemed as pumpkin,

But now is just for asinine.

Wherever I kept with myself,

My head without brainless

Fate in life helped me,

With my head I was agree.

Dressed in power to lead,

How beautiful is my head!

From the volume of poetry “When the Moon is washing” 2006

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Read: I Chose a Dream! – Poetry from Albania

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