Lan Qyqalla New Poetry |Albanian Poet

Lan Qyqalla is an Albanian writer, editor-in-chief of the EliteOrfeu International Magazine, winner of several national and international literary awards, member of the Albanian-American Academy of Sciences and Arts in New York, Director of the International Poetic Festival "Poetic, Literary and Artistic Heritage in Kosovo" 17 editions and Professor at the Gymnasium in Pristina. The poet from Kosovo has published more than 67 works (poems and stories) in Albanian, Romanian, Francophone, Swedish, English, Polish, arabic, indish. Chinese, etc.    Some of his poems 67, have been translated and published  in several languages and in several magazines and literary portals. Lives and creates in Pristina.

HELLO...

Hello! Hello!

the voice hums like in a cave,

I had forgotten the color of the voice

in this agn of late month.

Hello, hello...

the voice on the other side shuddered

in the raging river,

-Yes I am,..

here.closed in the ego

"gnosi" the lip timbre,

turmoil of times

or late spring?!

Hello, I'm Lora,

nothing important

in me the shadow of longing

affects the absorbed nectar

in search of immortality...

I clutch the phone

I feel stuck in water, who revives my fire?

Mekur in late May?!

Hello, Hello..., listen to me!

I am the sin-ridden Danaide,

why don't you talk to me

why are you silent?

...I can hear you on the other side,

 I was disturbed by this phone call in the last month.

RAIN IN MY EYES

The rainbow appeared

behind the lines of rain,

the worries and troubles of stis,

carved verses

where the west burned,

in the braided flower,

we put a wreath.

You can't see the rainbow

it didn't rain a little,

in my eyes...!

METAMORPHOSIS

(Loraa 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.