Angels...!
They touch the dome
majestic in their flight,
imprinted through love and blood of virgins,
may the saint envelopes everything in his chest
the father's pain,
the phosphorescent soul
and sacrifice of blood
shed to save the world.
Burning candles burn our form
the body that raised us and will take us back to the fire,
one more soul to pray,
why did he reached the end of eternity
peace that passes through the last incineration
and a recollection,
that will be missed on the road of no return.
The dome shines.
Angels are the same,
but an escape between two worlds
and a deep silence that reigns over the earth.
Angels wander
simply following the ritual of the bell ringing
to announce that nothing in this world changes,
but all remains an open gate;
amidst the darkness that surrounds like a ghost
and tenderness, which keeps us forever as an infant.
A woman
Do not expect her to walk
in the cold streets with her scarf over one shoulder
Or tap the heels on the silent memories
nor mirroring her image in the shops window
because her effulgence
is stronger then the sun
that warms the ice transforming it in to a candle, touching the marrow of the earth
breaking the myths of winter
that die at the irises and yet,
are resurrected
to embrace the light.
An image that appears at the shine of stars
and with her the wind extends the hair
to a forest where the deers are sleeping
the tracks of their hooves are printed on the snow
like a magic hidden in lightning
slaves of fate and troubled dance
towards that image
that god himself created
holiness
in the kingdom of every living breath.
Do not expect her to be weakened
because pain walks with her blood
and the blood with the feeling of eternity
like a deity
of the force that lifts gods to their feet,
the angels, everyday,
understanding the silence
of the turn of centuries
because the life is more than one attempt
that walks through the gates of the rainbow
and opens the doors of life
to the smile of a woman!
Passage
I need to see beyond the frames
And twist the contrast to make one more color
for deciphering all the views
that in a second change so abruptly
to make that colour a sea, a typhoon,
but also the peace that sleeps on the white waves
peace that rests beside an island
which, for me, Ithaca always remains
Time sleeps on the blooming lilies
whorls brightened in spring
collecting the first beams of dawn
and hiding their sight beyond the twilight
putting together the galaxy of stars.
that sparks on the cherry garden of love
to feel the distant whisper of the body
wrapped in a scarf of longing
and so the days vail is unveiled
running toward the purity of life
removing a fraction that reflects the light
and turning it to a charm that reveals the sun
weaved like this, in Gods fire
together with the lyre of the goddess of muses
at the footsteps left on the desire of words
or the thirsty longing for the traces of lips.
Is not enough ...
It's raining here,
the sky is always bronze
and the steps knock on the empty road
in thousands of feet,
without the melody of your heels,
of that timber who use to hear
as music
and the view that gave our journey distance,
not those of 100-years loneliness of Garcia
but not even love
in the cholera time (covid)
just a forgotten charm across the wind
and a journey that began
without goodbye!
I'm already used to it
with the sudden losses of the season
who run to unclothe the memory
first from alienated leaves of the green
then to the yellow,
violet and the reddish of Autumn,
but without your eyes
those bright thousands of suns
and hatch a light of life
and never I got learned;
that the next day
would wake up at the doorstep of a world
shinning and whispering of a silent forest.
Is not enough the cherry garden
nor the shadows of Moon
at the mirror of trunks of the Neruda's garden,
nor confusions,
nor the Eden that changed the flow of resemblance,
but simply a closeness
an overpass to the crazy world,
where the sad look of a woman
turned into the tear of my pain.
Translated into English by Merita Paparisto
Agron Shele was born in October 7th, 1972, in the Village of Leskaj, city of Permet, Albania. Is the author of the following literary works: The Steps of Clara (Novel), Beyond a grey curtain (Novel), Wrong Image (novel), Innocent Passage (poetry), White stones (poetry) RIME SPARSE-Il suono di due voci poetiche del Mediterraneo (Poesie di Agron Shele e Claudia Piccinno), La mia Musa (Libri di-versi in diversi libri Italy, 2020); Murmure dun autre monde (poetry), Klisania, Queen of the lake (Short story) and Ese-I and Ese-II). Agron Shele is also the coordinator of International Anthologies: Open Lane-1, Pegasiada, Open Lane-2, ATUNIS magazine (Nr 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 ) and Atunis Galaxy Anthology 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021, 2022, 2023. He is the winner of some international literary prizes. Is a member of the Albanian Association of Writers, member of the World Writers Association, in Ohio, United States, Poetas del Mundo, WPS, Unione world Poetry and the President of the International Poetical Galaxy Atunis. He is published in many newspapers, national and international magazines, as well as published in many global anthologies: Almanac 2008, 2017; World Poetry Yearbook 2009, 2013, 2015, The Second Genesis-2013, Kibatek 2015-Italy, Metafora (Poland), Keleno-Greece, etc. Currently resides in Belgium and continues to dedicate his time and efforts in publishing literary works with universal values.