When the poet loves
the moon becomes pregnant…
Lan Qyqalla, a poet from Republic of Kosovo, graduated from the Faculty of Philology, specializing in Albanian Language and Literature, at the University of Prishtina in the Republic of Kosovo. He is currently a professor of Albanian language at a secondary school. His literary and critical writings have appeared in numerous newspapers, magazines, radio and television platforms, and digital media. His work has been translated and published in multiple languages, including English, Romanian, French, Turkish, Arabic, Italian, Greek, Swedish, Hindi, Spanish, and Korean. He has published more than 19 literary works to date, including poetry, short stories, and plays, in Albanian, French, Romanian, English, Turkish, Swedish, Spanish, Polish, and German. He has received several national and international literary awards and has been featured in numerous global anthologies of poetry and fiction.
WHEN THE POET LOVES
When the poet loves
the moon becomes pregnant
with the autumn pollen
the stars laugh with Pitagora’s theorem
the sun receives rays of love
Tsunami become the poet’s words
Lora is immersed in the block of salt.
When the poet sings
adorns the world
with the smell of love
he gives the mountains
Beethoven’s symphony
the rivers are enjoying
Mrika’s* work
the sea of poet’s feelings
and Lora falls asleep
on the wedding stone
a living metaphor
in infinite verses
- Mrika is the first opera in the Albanian language.
***
METAMORPHOSIS
(Lora of New York)
Loraa asked me to imitate Odysseus,
not to listen
sirens of the deep,
nor the poet’s erotic verses
in the rocky waves of the sea.
In New York he studied Pythagoras,
the language of mimicry read the unspoken word
wrote it in saltiness,
where life is a dream
and the dream becomes life.
The epic words underwent a metamorphosis,
the seagulls danced
over our heads,
deep sea conception
shivers run through,
air in New York
I missed the thrill of life.
***
LORA FROM PRISHTINA
The Goddess descends into memories
Lora took into her arms
the blessed silence
an eye she gave to love
a song to the sun
to evil she gave the smile
her lips enchanted me
embracing the dream of the poet…
Again with Lora of Prishtina
we often meet on the boulevard
looking at the shadows of the rocks
beauty walks courageous
in love as the meteor of words
rain with arrows in sight
her lips put ash on my tongue
where the unspoken word slopes
the missing halt
during the white sleep
Lora of Prishtina –
gives a song to the sun.
______________
