The fortress of Presheva is covered by darkness, whereas the Valley is covered by dread, open your eyes…
Bilall Maliqi, a writer, poet and publicist from Serbia, shares his poems
Bilall Maliqi is a writer, poet and publicist, born on April 08, 1969 in a village ElezBAli, municipality of Presheva, South Serbia. He writes poetry and prose for children and adults, and deals also with literature critics. He is the author of 40 works including poetry and prose for children and adults, journalism and literary critics. He has also been published in several anthologies. Maliqi is founder and editor in chief of the magazine “Qendresa” which is published in Presheva Valley. Maliqi is president of association of Presheva writers and is a member of League of Writers of Kosova.
OPEN YOUR EYES
Open your eyes
I get into groan
Close your eyes
A black shadow
Around us
Open your files
And take off your masks
Because the fortress of Presheva
Is covered by darkness
Whereas the Valley is covered by dread
Open your eyes…
***
THE MARK
Three steps to the mark
In pike we have the stone
Through the holes of the fence
With a little light
From this point note
Grabovc with two heads
And his tail hang up
In the old tree
From this free dot
In a naked mound
To revive the loves
***
WRITING A POETRY
If you want to write a poetry
Put your feeling into inspiration
Don’t hurt the verse
Write down the mark of figures
If you couldn’t find their place
You hurt the verse
The poetry protests
If you want to write a poetry
Become a shadow in every verse
Don’t stay like stubby
Get to that mark
With your metaphor tousle your time
***
LONGING FOR FATE
Fortune of mine only you know my pains
I revealed and had inside me
When sleepy loneliness overtakes me
The memory is linked strongly with longing
My longing is stretched in belly of time
For the moisture fate in the edge of soul
I never give up to annoyance
Neither to storm that takes a bunch of memories
My saturated fat in a pond of tears
My hope left in a dirty midnight
My desire for you as the wide fields
From where came the first word of love
My song for you was transformed into a ballade
Together with damned landmarks
Upon our sights fell out darkness
And put us into legend
Now in the nest of ruined fate
Remained a hope which will never disappear
***
PATCHING MY RAMSHACKLE FATE
Let me patch my ramshackle fate
In the back of the contempt map
Let me count the shouts
And with my look to destroy the landmark
Let me step down the slope
With many repeated groan
Let me sit on the top of the landmark
And get connected with you my land
Let me be on the surface of the rocky ground
Just to read the engraved love
(Translated from Albanian to English, Peter Tase)
_________________
Prepared by Angela Kosta Academic, journalist, writer, poet, essayist, literary critic, editor, translator
