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Copiright © Jeton Kelmendi jetonkelmendi@gmail.com 0032478663381
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In order to express powerful feelings in poetry there is not a single thing more effective
than the brevity of the poem and its concise style.
Isn’t this also true in wild animals when they squeeze their body and gather all their energies for an attack?
Jeton Kelmendi's poetry is very similar to this image with its inner shivering.
It is characterised from the feeling of masses and laconicisms.
Its condensed lyrical style penetrates deeply on the readers’ sensations.
Through his elliptical verses, in fact he communicates the most valuable thing of human spirit.
Kelmendi is one of the great figures of today’s poetry.
The work of this Kosovar poet honors not only the Albanian language literature,
but the whole literature with its entirety.
Athanase Vantchev de Thracy, July 15, 2009, Paris
______________________________
Jeton Kelmendi has as much passion as it seems like he is trying to re-invent his homeland and love.
He tries to make the dream into an anti-dream, and also the opposite.
In his poetry there is something contrary to the wind and achievements,
he may not get there, but indeed is the fighter of explorations.
He discovers the roots on the branches, and the faces in the fruits.
Searches the future and discovers the present,
Searches for someone else and discovers himself.
Visar Zhiti, Rome Italy
_______________________________
Foreword
I am a prose writer, but admire poetry: the art of rhythmical composition – written or spoken – and that is imaginative, impassioned, and educative. My interpretation of Kelmendi’s poetry may surprise the reader, and perhaps, the author himself. Although I am not a student of Balkan history, I have always been interested in that part of Europe, for many reasons. The Balkan people have had a very difficult history, in part because of its more powerful neighbors. “Balkanize” means to divide a country, territory, etc. into small quarrelsome ineffectual states. Kelmendi-the-poet understands well the tragic history of this region. His lyrical work is soft and sad. His “how to reach yourself” reminds me of persons who have had to become border-crossers throughout history. Obviously not in a luxury train, airplane, or expensive automobiles. Worst yet, perhaps without the “papers” needed to cross borders!
During the last thirty years the whole world has been radically changed because of what the powerful capitalist “democracies” have done in order to make more profits. Some call it neo-liberalism with a postmodern “outer-skin,” i.e., the culture of the economic changes. The term “ nexus” means connecting, linking, binding, joining, in other words – coming together in many ways. Karl Marx explained that under capitalism, and its form of imperialism, caused what he called the “cash nexus.” Money and wealth became the most important, and perhaps only reason, for powerful people to come together! The people of Illyria and Albania were not able to sit at the seats of the powerful who made the rules. The Western powers freed up the markets allowing entrepreneurs (mostly big capitalist corporations) to stir up as much Schumpeterian “creative destruction” as possible. Milton Friedman’s “shock and awe,” disaster capitalism is a form of making war on countries whose leaders did not want to become part of the Western powers new forms of neo-capitalist-imperialism. I have read and interpreted this book in terms of the context within which we live. I do not claim that Kelmendi would agree!
This poetry represents a person’s difficulty with regard to should he go back to the time when his country was strong and just. Even though this might only be more a wish than a fact. Turning inward, back to a god, a magic past, or where to start in the present? Perhaps to settle for neo-spiritual instead of neo-economics and the politics that might help in the current dispensation? Back to a deity and Mother Teresa both of whom may have disappeared? A return to the blossoming flower of Gonxhe, as a small Calcutta? This is difficult to figure out when the super secular global capitalism does not look to spirituality except in order to sell some/every thing – every day and night through the years.
Fatherland Albania! Kelmendi seems to be similar to other people whose homeland has not done well in the somewhat recent past, but can go further back in history when claims can be made that there was a time in the ancient past when their land-entity was powerful, just, and worthy of praise. He seems to tell his readers that so many Albanians, and other Balkan people, had to go abroad; however, perhaps they will return to a bigger, better and safer homeland. The reader may wonder if it is possible for all of the persons he alludes to can find such a grand homeland, given the wars that have occurred so recently. Old scores to settle within pressure from the western powers forcing this area into global capitalism, makes it difficult to believe that Kelmendi’s dreams and hopes can materialize any time soon! He asks where is the border that cuts through the sadness and joy? He also asks where have they taken my tomorrow, where is the shadow of yesteryear? Our author has the ability to move from tenses: remote, ancient, not too far back, present and future. This may be his strength with regard to what he gives to interested cosmopolitan readers? The lords of the earth today do not want ordinary (complimentary) persons to learn how to connect the links in time and space. They certainly did not like Marx’s attempt to teach people of his time to see the big picture, obviously a collage from smaller – “snapshots.” I admire Kelmendi’s valiant attempt to help us understand better the thoughts and hopes from one poet living and working in a particular country, but demonstrating his worldliness.
Peter Tase has made it possible for us to read an Albanian language book of poetry in English. This allows so many more people a chance to become knowledgeable about places and ideas beyond the English language world. Bravo Peter!
Richard A. Brosio, Ph.D., University of Michigan
Professor emeritus, Ball Sate University
Lecturer and Visiting Scholar at the University of Wisconsin Milwaukee
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CHALLENGING THE MEASURING OF WORD
By
J e t on Kelmendi
Jeton K e l m e n d i
Poetry
Jeton Kelmendi Translated by Fredi Proko
The poet Jeton KELMENDI was born in Pejë (Kosovo) in 1978.
He completed his primary and secondary education in his hometown. He obtained a degree in journalism from the University of Pristina and is presently completing post-graduate studies in international politics and security issues at the Université Libre de Bruxelles. In parallel with his studies Jeton Kelmendi continues to write and publish numerous poetry compilations. He also collaborates in several media, both foreign and Albanian, dealing mainly with cultural and political topics.
Kelmendi has acquired a large public following, due to his first poetical work "Century of promises", which was published in 1999 and became a great success. His poetry is translated into 22 languages and is published in many anthologies.
He is a member of numerous international poetry clubs.
He is a UCK war veteran who fought for the independence of Kosovo (1998-1999)
Presently Kelmendi lives and works in Brussels.
Works of the author :
Poetry :
Century of promises, Rilidja, Prisjhtinë,1999
Beyond the silence, Faik Konica, Prishtinë, 2002
Perhaps halfway through the day, Faik Konica, Prishtinë, 2004
Give me a small piece of the country, Faik Konica, Prishtinë, 2005
Where do the events lead us to, Ombra GVG,Tiranë, 2007
You come for the sound of thewind, Globus R., Tiranë 2008
Time when it will have time, Ideart, Tiranë, 2009
Drame :
Miss Word, 2007
Books published in foreign languages :
Ce mult s-au rãrit scrisorile / The letters have become so rare (choice of poems translated & published in Rumanian)
A Breath / (choice of poems translated and published in India)
International recognition :
Member of the Association of professional journalists of Europe, Brussels.
Member of the European Academy of Sciences, Art and Litterature, Paris.
Grand Prix International Solenzara for Poetry, France.
Tituj të veprave
Shekulli i Premtimeve, 1999 (poezi)
Përtej Heshtjes, 2002 (poezi)
Në qoftë mesditë, 2004 (poezi)
Më fal pak Atdhe, 2005 (poezi)
Ku shkojnë ardhjet 2007 (poezi)
Zonja Fjalë 2007 (dramë) Koha kure te kete kohe 2009 (poezi)
Ce mult s-au rãrit scrisorile /Sa fortë janë rralluar letrat antologji personale në Gjuhën Rumune 2007
Erdhe për gjurmë të erës 2008 (poezi) Breath In India (poezi) 2009
PAS ARDHJES AFTER THE COMING
And the bard replied
We know the fate
Of epic songs
Through the skull
Of the word
We enter
Together the old neighbourhood
With a knob
Of a word
And we hang it from it
Nostalgia for my gone self
From here to beyond
It will be my day
For out of the word I’ll come
Paris 2007 Paris 2007
PAS NJOHJES ONCE WE GET TO KNOW EACH-OTHER
I, a poet
You a pretty lady
Yet we didn’t connect together
What’s up
Did my chronicle
Undo your dream
Or are you in one of your moods
Talk to me about the fire without smoke
In a moment
Your coffee is waiting for us
And my trembling line
Did you get it
We will go up and down the world
We can do more than you
would think, together
Now, this is something given
End of September 2006 Paris
PIKA ELLIPSIS
It now emerges,
Then disappears
Gets closer
On the one side
And away
On the other
It glints scintillatingly
Keep mum
With your garrulous mouth
Create an inner world
With what you see instead
She’s got a flair for languages
Somehow
It dodges
Yet it stares you
It enters the word
And your peace disturbs
It is something
Quite something
WoluWe Brussels 2006
PËR NJË TË HËNË FOR A MONDAY
Two sounds
Of an early morning
In a room
And
The thoughts that go beyond
The event
If that lady watchful eye
Calls you
Could you possibly
Be quiet
Three elliptical dots
The first hours of Monday
And you can’t span the distance
To her
And if only the text
Written by the hand of Miss Word
Would wake you up
One step closer
You’d feel
How could we stay
Awake
Were we not together
NË VEND TË FJALËS INSTEAD OF THE WORD
Until when? in shadow
The body of your silence
You came in the wake of the wind
Nobody’s queen
Till when these plains
Be plenty of nothingness
Chance wanted us to meet
Yet all went the opposite direction
Till when we are hiding from ourselves
The unknown
A thought flashed
Instead of the word
Audergham, 9th March 2007
PAK HISTORI SOME HISTORY
There came a time
As bewildered as cheerful
No one could tell its white from its black
We could’t find ourself
We could neither see nor meet it
Or did we miss it
We were rationed to everything
Little fear
A bit of boldness
Some sorrow, and joy and so forth
Just a little of everything
It tried to convince us of what freedom means
And so on and so forth
And it devised a devil
Optimism
To keep the things suspended
And store up the time
It dyed us in red and off it went
Alas, whatever did never arrive
That’s what it owes us
June 2000, Peje Kosovo
PËR GOTËN E MERAKUT TO THE GLASS OF YEN
Drink it man
Your glass
The red wine of her
Yen
Drink headily
To the dregs
Don’t let
The drop of
Line
To be written in solitude
Even like this
Sober
You are a wholesome man
Autumn 2006 Paris
ARDHJA JONË NË PERGAMEN OUR FOOTPRINT ON PARCHMENT
One can’t be sure of my dreams
And your waking
Homeland
One can’t trust
Our noise
Your silence
I fear
My morrow
Just as your after tomorrow
SPROVË PËR MATJEN E FJALËS CHALLENGING THE MEASURING OF WORD
Somewhere between dark and light
Someone feels sorry for the word
Opposite the song
That, which destroys everything the dream harbours
Somewhere else
The poet and the anti-word
That he cannot measure the foundation
To the fountain spring
One can still go past thirsty
The combat ground of the unspoken word
Remains barren
And dead silent
Without seeing the scheduled game
KODEKS CODEX
Neither gleaming like the moon
Nor calm like the castle
They say
She has come from afar
The most mysterious enigma
The code is yet to be found
As she grows, her hair grows white
Such a sight
In my line
The only unmatched version
In the winter with thin hair
They speak with the language of anticode
Like Antheus
Prometheus
They speak of
Some love salt
For many would not share it
But today’s writings
Are their seasons
Our winter
Crazy codex
NË ANËN TJETËR ROUND THE CORNER
I expected you joyfully
Yesterday
Hoping to meet you
Somewhere on the other side
of the waking
On the twenty seventh floor
Of the NOID
Tower
I felt like taking a nap
With you
As November was turning
I recalled that
At the turn of the twenty seventh
It was possible
For the world’s most gracious to emerge
The mightest of the word
To cheer
A thousand and one wonders
Have happened
But alas,
The year has turned the corner alone
Again
Prishtina, 27 November 2005
LOJË PLAY
If we can’t sleep together tonight
How am I to refresh myself under your shadow
The times are making haste lately
To either overtake me
Or catch up with you
The sky can’t be reached
The perigee is meaningless without your name on it
Run as much as you want
You can’t play
This game with yellow effects
FRYMA BREATH
Yesterday, I indulged in
Dreaming about you
The most beautiful of all nights
Of the nights of the known worlds
Whenever the dark set off to dream
I wanted to be
Your white clothes
You make the autumn swoon
O, pretty, the fairest of all
The most wordy of words
Are not worth a penny
O, playful
Why don’t you become a breeze
And blow
Towards my sky
PARADOKS PARADOX
Move as much as you want
away from my winter
Antisaga who can’t distinguish my spring
Curiosity thrives at you
During the wait that the night prolongs
A wonder happened
I dreamt as if I slept
With her
Freely
Let’s say that it went
To rest solicitously
She spent the summer
Without worries
O, water of her thirst
Wonders landed today
As often happens when uexpected
Unavowed
Their sights set on me
NJË ORË ME TË DHE DY FJALË PËR NESËR AN HOUR WITH HER AND TWO WORDS FOR TOMORROW
Your springs and my summers
Rise and set
Polar journeys
ANOMALI ANOMALY
The word has come down with a cold
This year
And it knows not how to deal
With silence
Silence
Has got a temperature
And it cannot go out
Not as much as to the word
BESIMI FAITH
Took me beyond my potency
Time It knitted my patience
Which had stretched
To the breaking point
My breath generates a silence, which
Makes the morning milder
Whatever
Can we do
To ourselves
Pas For it not to follow us
An arrival sets off
It then is late and just gives up
Here, it dots the i-s
And waits
Doesn’t know when she’s not busy
I lay two stones on the temple
One on top of the other
One for myself and the other for
Her
And the wait carries on
If only
We knew the tricks of the game
We’d grow
Along with our faith
Auderghem 22 February 2007
AMORFE AMORPHOUS
Nothing for all, or all for nothing
Beyond myself
When the word
Gave up its ghost
Why so dear God
The moon of loneliness touched
The enigmaof the Pegasus of light
With your other step tread on
The tomorrow
Neither thirst or hunger
Can trust on water or bread
Anymore
On the plains of a word
Homeland
How many have fed and drunk
Why allow such scavinging, God
We’ve gone nuts
with these nauseating things
Silence is bouncing
In the walls of patience
Today we put off till tomorrow
Why allow all this, God
Of all the things, I am telling you none
You will see when we reach
The other side
MADRIGAL MADRIGAL
Dismiss the angels
From my guest parlour
We enter the darkness
As in a madrigal
Our faces turned
And faced light
We give a soft sigh
We need more bank holidays
To celebrate
Or perhaps
We can have special occasions
Whenever we want them
You and me and dark
Wedding guests, the stars
Twice
You have spoken wisely
And even breath agreed that instant
You come at daytime
And return after twilight
As the route has its own troubles
Secondly
Neither mouth nor soul do forgive
If I don’t spell out
My heart’s song
Speak now o blessed poet
Man
Tell me about the artist
Is your mind rambling
Or I wonder
If they took you beyond yourself
The most secluded silence
Quiet
Cannot guarantee
We tied the feet of roads
Everything is increasing
But something which is reducing
To my sweetheart
The poet and verse
An additional breath
To each dialogue and extra
Comma
Whenever Friday comes
I’ll pray to the sky and God
For our other
Night
E PARA THE FIRST
Even the queen of all wonders
Wonders how long
Will the white dreams linger beyond the river
The vigour of intuition was blunted
By vanity
One never goes to his sweetheart
Without a tad of motive
Or a dash of joy
Even Van Gogh when he didn’t have
Some other sort of solution
He devised one
I’ve heard people saying
You must watch out for yourself
To protect the others
You can trust love no more than night
Always mysterious
All that is seen in twilight
Is plunged into darkness
My mind rambles away
Beyond my sleep even
No one knows what
there is beyond humanity
Or stillness
E DYTA THE SECOND
The side of her shadow
Got damp
The backbone of lyrics got white
While we’re waiting for twilight’s rites
My father
While I was still a child
Taught me the name of a flower
Which blooms
Just like girls waiting love
Whilst waiting for the barren begging
I called it a day
And turned a new leaf
The eyes and the light hair
Are the light divinities
Which criss-crossed
My dreams
The dreams of the poet
Haven’t seen
A more enraptured dream
E TRETA THE THIRD
Don’t alienate me o tonight’s night
I am not up for dreams
Where is the darkness of waking
In my mind
O sombrero of my thought
Didn’t you manage
To shake off the shadow
Not to worry if there is no room for me
It’s a breeze that doesn’t blow
From me
The storms batter me
Distance only cannot get away from night
Undrunk cup of coffe
Drained glass of raki
I hope you can’t make me drunk
ÇAST PËR ADMIRIM AN ADMIRING MOMENT
It’s not clear to me
Will you speak or be quiet
O lyrical as the magic of Helen
O spectacular game
Improvisation is the next meeting
Or I’ll teach you about
The ribbon
It’s the fault of the waking
Why tomorrow is not today
DRAMË DRAMA
First act
Perhaps
You thought it too much yesterday
How couldn’t you recall
What’s the dividing line between
Sorrow and joy
How can we take a short cut
Of this road
How
Second Act
Perhaps
Tomorrow we will be too few
Come to the fountain of thirst
And wait
All the early arrivals
That, which will never arrive
Fare Is mine
Third Act
And today
Nobody is in time
Buy the ticket for the journey without end
In every station of writing
You’ll find a comma
For you
A question mark
For me
DIMRI I SHKËPUTJES SË MADHE THE WINTER OF THE GREAT PARTING
For Ibrahim Rugova1
I’ve never
Seen you
This quiet
Our golden stone
Couldn’t you find another way
To ascend
Onto the other side
At the Hill of Martyrs
You’ll rest
For a long time
Dream
And pray for
Your Dardania
The winter of lonliness marked
On your eyebrows
Everything came with the tear
Infamous year
The day of parting
Black, o black January
O taciturn of the unspoken things
Colossus of word and the world
How did you give up your soul
You passed away
The day which passed to history
High-lander
How weighty your word was
VAKI MARVEL
We lied
In the plain of a word
I and
The azzure eyes
Which haunt me
In good weather
Through rain and sun
We made it
I’ll find some time
For myself
My girl and the verse
Marvel
I bow to you
KODI IM PËR NESËR MY CODE FOR TOMORROW
Where will they have sent
My tomorrow
Where tomorrow’s shadow
At the invisible stone
Appear dreams and illusions
Water and bread for anti-man
Rainfall and fountains do not fancy
Running for us
My autumn has been robbed
Of the sky
I’ve been deprived of
All winter
My today
Can’t take me through tomorrow
Can somebody find
My code
For tomorrow
PURTEKJE SLENDER
If your’re
Pressed for time
Give me
Five minutes
Of your company
And then
Do as you wish
Make an effort
If you would or
We dance the anxious loneliness away
With your five minutes
I can spend
Seasons and years
Winters and summers
Before I transcend
My boundaries
Light and dark
Will rest for a while
In the lips
Will lie lenghtways
Today I ponder on
What must be said
What must be done
PËR VAJZËN FOR THE GIRL
Until the word
Gets lonely
Take some
Of my time
Day and night rustle
For you
My songs
In tune with the ruslting
Of leaves
Please bestow me
Your tender looks
The honey moon
For my honey
For your sake
I’ll play the guitar
And let there not
Germinate or sprout
For you
I’ll get the spring going
ËNDRRA E SAJ HER DREAM
Oh such looks
Of that miss, food of the line
And she left me on the horns of a dilemma
Is she the verse itself
Or the word is the miss
Queen that transmogrifies the meaning
One can see it with a half eye
Her looks are brightened
By my sun
She craves for the voice of my heart
At times the weather is overcast
Yet she loves me just the same
However, verse has got a fever
LETRAT LETTERS
Who do we call tomorrow
Where has the breath taken the letters
The writing
Is becoming shorter and shorter
They have become so sparse
It’s been days
That a blackbird’s
Been waiting to come
And it enshrouds half the sky
Who does the other half belong to
You can see yourself
On your palm
And you wonder
Who do we call tomorrow
DHJETë E DHJETë Në TIRANË TEN PAST TEN IN TIRANA
Tonight Autumn can gorge itself on night
The moon is reflected on the window
The best
Of poetry
Shall I write for you
Tan sweetheart
Tonight
Maybe you fall asleep
Before it strikes
Ten past ten
I play the pipe to verse
There is ample night in the word
And quiet
The time
Overstepped eleven
The sky descended in the lines
Alongside with the sparse stars
Your face appears to me
O golden-eyed
as in the olden times
‘I cast my eyes from a mountain slope’2
ZESHKANES FOR THE BRONZED GIRL
My bronzed one is
My first trip
Even under her shadow
The grass grows lushly
The words with the bronzed one are an anthem
Sung to the journey for love
Her blue eyes stuck at the corner of my eye
They haunt me whenever I rest
The next day
She misses only me
USHTIMA THE PEAL
Pick some of your sky
Off this night
‘Cause our skin needs to be wrapped
I shall never see
The other poles
Without your sky and mine
Being on the top
Hush my dear
I’ll produce the sky from my breath
A bird will I make of my word
For its twittering to wake you up
Tirana 4th April 2005
PAK ME VONË A BIT LATER
She will come
To our favourite spot
For you I will certainly come too
I’ll patiently wait
All goings
All arrivals
That is when I’ll set off
BUKURIA E BUKURIVE THE FAIREST OF ALL
Oh, who better than the maiden
Does beauty match to
From her eyes
But love for freedom streams out
Oh the maiden’s beauty
Oh the verse’s beauty
Lucky is the beauty for them
INSINUATË INSINUATION
If I grow old
And I haven’t written some love lines
A hard-hearted man you call me
They will say he was as tough as stone
If I grow old
And I haven’t sung love songs
In the embers of silence
It’ll mean I’ll burn
Love
Beauty and verse flow together
For you and homeland
NUDO NUDE
With nobody would I swap
The language
With you today, yes I would
One hour
Two
Three
Till I touch the word’s bottom
I’d say everything
Nude
As with my first kiss
You seem icy without
Fiery within
Nude
I wouldn’t swap you with the world
Jeton Kelmendi Translated by Fredi Proko
To the edge of the going
The yet to come is waiting for us
ILLYRIAN
Your body weight
Your air power
The speed slowdown
Are immesurable
There are no limits to your light
Either
There is no measure of your radiance
Or
You are superlative that exceeds all dimensions
I swear to my word’s soul
You’re
A crumb of forgetfuless
Beyond the ear or the eye
For hundreds and thousands of years
You’re
A bright thought
And never
Has anybody ever been able to appraise you
My god given homeland that conferred me my name
Albanian
Auderghem, February 2007
FOR ENCOURAGEMENT
One day
My day will come
If indeed it’s true that
Every dog has it’s day,
And I will know how to welcome it
Then the soil will be as bountiful in bread
And the spring in water
That it will fill all the gaps
But alas
What are we to do with you
Distrust in tomorrow,
Deplorable is that day
Vienna, summer 2006
MISS WORD AND MR THOUGHT
1.
I’ve spoken rather
Differently
Too triumphantly
Miss
I hope
You take no offence
They are after all
Merely a poet’s words
And you know that it’s permissable
To strip the dressed thoughts
Stark naked
And the bare ones
To dress with suits I fancy
Or
Has it been just as well for you
That I simply tell you I love you
The words everybody tells
To anybody
As a husband to his own wife,
Miss
I beg to differ
2.
Well
Thought is no good without the word
Or the word
Means nothing if mind is not engaged
You are such a dear,
You are Miss word
And I Mr. thought
This is how I’ve always seen it
Myself with you and yourself with me
Even
This love formula
Anywhere
If at all it survived
Modernity
So Miss word, you are attractive
When Mr. thought
Lends you his charm
3.
Come on
Let’s make up ‘cause
Silence
Is anxiously watching
What’s gonna happen with us
Anyway
Miss word
I feel like giving you a kiss
Only one
As I’m not sure how
A second or third may come
Let freedom live unfettered
Let the word
The mind
Speak whatever
They want
I now want
The first kiss
Paris, July 2006
UNDER MEMOY’S SHADE
I’d told you something forgotten
That which can’t be recalled not even tomorrow
Forgetfulness grows ever older
When silence travels
I’m waiting for you
At the sun-dried oak
In que with the verse
Hung on the tip of my longing
Where one normally waits for his sweetheart
I sat down to rest
Till autumn runs out and light wears on
I attempted
To tell you but something.
June, 2004
THE WORD SIDESTEPPED SILENCE
I used to keep silent
Yesterday
In order to speak a bit
I’ve inhaled sorrow’s breath
I’ve always set off
To remote regions
Towards your eyes
To you
To quietly speak to you
To tell you
About you
And me
I’ve endeavoured
To tell you
That you’re
The bread of lines
The water of the word
I for you
The most sung song
Ever
I wanted to keep silent
To scarcely speak
To become a shadow
To prevent the sun’s light
I’ve wanted
To get over
All humanity’s
Mishaps
And I’ve seen
How I could
Find myself
Closer to you
Soon or later
Yesterday
I’ve strived
To enjoy to the fullest
May 2005, Prishtina
MOMENT
Were I to be rain
Tonight
I’d sprinkle a drop
On your face
And such a drop
That rolls down gently
The look in front of you
What are you doing with this moment
I leave again surreptitiously
You better think about the next moment
CADENCE
I recited to myself
The severed threads of the saga
It’s good
To hold them in our hands
Fairminded lady
Who all stays alone,
Repose by the fireplace sometimes.
You’ve never looked like today
In the blink of an eye
A word
Sprouted on the soil of the tongue
And grew up to the sky
And put down roots to the depths of earth
Today looks after tomorrow
Behind us new waters and lands.
A poet’s lines
Together with his solitude
Hello Drin, cold water river
I’ll see you some day
Between your banks.
Brussels 2007-02-27
HER RITES
After all
It’s a fresh start
And there’s no way how you can go in silence
No way leads me to you
Sooner than today
My star set
And the higher I go
The lower does the fog take me
Oh, had I experienced a genuine love
I’d dread nothing
And it’s not a bad thing to dream
Do consider this mate,
A platoon of efforts
A prophetic thought
Whirling
Bring me to you
Doesn’t matter that you are wrapped in your word
Make some room for me
At poetry
Vienna 2006
CHATTING WITH MY BROTHER IN ARMS
Before I have a chat with you
I would like to ask you about the highlands
The torrents which used to rush in the past springs,
How’s been the weather like this year
I far away, and you close by
The word has gone cold
The summer doesn’t feel like staying with us
Where the slate pierced by the drop dwells
Who is singing on the slopes
How early we’ve set out
And we’re not nearly there yet
Brussels, 20 February
THE COMING
They saw her off to here
Due to the great fear of their own self
Day and night
Accompanied her pace
They took with her
All that was to come
From here to the end of the going
A yet to come is waiting for us
THE GOING
Take with you all her belongings
They will show her the ways,
All her threads are blown as if in the wind
I wonder why she’s not coming again
Footstep after footstep
As if on top of motion
On her head
Autumns cross over here
How silent is the begging
How the going closes like solitude
Who knows that
The coming and going are ahead
BACKDROP
I’m still waiting, the croud of coming
Is seeing off files of goings
The March morning has dawned
Of our long nights
See you beyond the time
The word symbolic and art of contrasts
Ndue Ukaj, Sweden
Poetry is the most universal form of poetic communication where ideas and figures fulfill the poetic harmony and intention. They walk side by side and build an Olympus of perceptions and feelings for the beautiful and the ugly, for the amiable and useful, for the tragic and happiness. In most beautiful forms the poet, like an oracle inspired creates perceptions to his own universal perceptions through his language as a poetic specialty. This universal form of communication of the message of the artistic word, eternity of ideas, in harmony with the poetic system functionalizes the multifold esthetic and idealistic forms. Through perceptions and particular world the poet descends the circles of hell, searches with the sense of the creator through the purgatory constantly aiming for the road to Paradise, to the eternity where the Poetic Art melts with a series of lecturing proceedings using numerous tropes and metaphors, symbols and comparisons, contrasts and paradoxes always in function of realizing a literary catharsis. And, these poetic characteristics are found in Jeton Kelmendi’s poetry in his collection “Breath” which the poet is presenting for the English-speaking reader. As Horace said in his “Poetic Art”, “poets should bring something useful or entertaining, or say amiable and useful things”, Kelmendi’s poetry mingles in itself original poetic features bringing the amiable and useful to the reader with a cultivated style and dense language of depicted symbols never burdening his poetry. His poetry, lyrical discourse, or “an inner mimesis of poetic sound and images aimed at becoming a thematic modus: (Northrop Frye) in Kelmendi’s poetry as well. This thematic modus featuring his poetics is built of elaborated figures through sweet verse of an internal rhythm and impulsive tonality often filled with interjections or some single letter carrying expression – elements that give his poetry a specific and original poetic dimension.
Jeton Kelmendi belongs to the younger generation of the Albanian literature, a generation that has experienced the most tragic mess in the Balkans and which is today moving alongside contemporary trends of literature carrying over their should a bitter past which Kelmendi brings to life through his rich imagination and dynamic poetic discourse. During this period he has debuted with several very qualitative collections of poetry highly assessed by both critics and literary public. His collection of poetry “Fryma” (“Breath”) offers to the poetry-lovers a poetic universe of Albanian literary tradition, a beautiful set of poetic word, rich in existential themes as its poetic pivot with multifaceted expressive forms and nuances mingling with other themes and motives. His poetry communicates with the past, present and future. Above all, it communicates with the being of literature as one may read in the poetry “A word measuring trial” where poetry wages its own battle: “Somewhere amidst the light’s darkness/ Someone is missing the word”. This model of poetic of poetic discourse is articulated by Kelmendi in his next poem “Our arrival on parchment” where fatherland and poet identify first of all by a joint call on the insecurity and paradoxes which a misty future brings about as his country, and the Balkans generally, remain regions of paradoxes and continued stirrings, horrors that are most of all felt by artists. Therefore the author cries out: “They seem as dreams and realities/ Water and bread of anti-human” (My tomorrow code). And, this philosophy of creation remains a poet’s curiosity in order for him to understand “Where the border crosses/ Between sadness and joy/” (Drama, First Act), for the fact that this border, poetic by all means, plays an important role in this poetic collection through a contrast of ideas, figures and poetic symbols in order to transform sadness and joy into art. And, also for the fact that thus “Lyrics had its shadow bone whitened/ While waiting for the rites of dust”, and the song beings its powerful life.
Kelmendi’s poetry is characterized by a specific perception of beauty beneath of a sub layer of perceptions for its numerous categories: the beauty that the art of poetry brings, for the girl and love, for the country and history, like in the poetry “A Moment”, where the poet using symbols and comparisons, through concise lines, rhythm, synthesizes the most beautiful forms of lines: “If I were rain/ Tonight/ I’d accidentally drip/On your cheek/But/A slow dripping drop/Looking at you straight”. Generally, Kelmendi’s poetic verse is laconic with emotional and semantic expressivity. Its poetic structure is built over paradox as a particular feature. Through it the poet preserves the substance of the idea aimed at the eternity of word with inspiring poetic calls. The dominant poetic discourse of this collection is deeply lyrical. The typos of themes and motives go around a national pivot, woman and love, mediation about art, artistic word. The poetic communicates sadly with history, as for example in the poet “Illyrian”, in the lines: “It surpasses all/For the sake of the word”, as his country cannot be measured with any form, and the next line of connotative meaning closes a century-old cry: “My fatherland of God that gave me my name”. This, above all, for the fact that the poet’s Winter remains a mad codex. Fatherland topics are formed through forms of pain in the poetry “Morph” with lines: “Neither thirst nor hunger/ In the plain of a word/ Fatherland/ How many pastured and drank… How much silence assailed/ Disgust infuriated us for you nostalgia”. One of the very interesting poems is the one dedicated to Ibrahim Rugova, where the poet sings passionately to the president’s figure, artist and highlander, the symbol of Albanians for decades, and model of writer: “Dream on? And pray for Dardania/ A winter of solitude has fallen… Everything came with the tear? Grand Year/ Day of departure” (Winter of Big Departure, to Ibrahim Rugova). Kelmendi’s poetry is an associative one. It both evokes perceptions and creates. The poet walks on with his verse in order to understand the corners of the world; he is at the edge of paradoxes even when perhaps “an evil hour has set” (After recognition), and his carries in his soul the power of poetry in order to challenge and hence bring triumph for the word: “Tell me something about the smokeless fire/ From now on/ Your coffee awaits us/ And my line of shiver” (After recognition). More powerfully, this poetic tendency is articulated in his highly values poem “Madam Word and Mister Thought”, where the poet contemplates about the philosophy of creation with a modern poetic affinity of transformation of thought from paradox to contrast and from contrast to an amiable symbol: “I’ve spoken/ Somewhat differently/ Madam/ But I say/ Don’t get me wrong/ After all these are words of a poet”. Kelmendi’s poetry is consolidated; his verse is free and paradox of thought and contrast of idea become pinpointing features of the lyric: “A time a day came/ so awkward so happy/ Its white and back no one knew” (A bit of history). Or, in another interesting poem “For the amiable glass” where Kelmendi creates outstandingly beautiful lines in a concise style and realized with emotion and inspiration, creating poetic expressivity that reminds one of the great poet Omar Khayam and his emblematic lines of wine and love: “Drink it man/ Your own glass/ The red amiable wine/ Drink it drunkardly/ Bottoms up/ Never leave/ A drop/ To the verse/ Written lonesomely/ Anyway/ You’re not sober, man”. He cultivates this same model of speech in a number of other poems, because love, or ‘the beauty of beauties’, the lass as its personification represents a special topic within the topes and motives underlying the collection: “Tonight the autumn night may be saturated/ The moon fell over the window/ With her goods/ The verse/ I’ll write for you” (Ten and Ten in Tirana). This poetic rhythm develops through powerful gradation in his other two poems, “Whisk” and “Her dream”. Randomly viewed, this collection offers beautiful poetry, an inspired art, where the reader may find basic components of literature, the useful and amiable (Horatio), “It is not clear to me/ Whether to speak or keep silent/ Lyrical like the magic of Helen” (A moment for admiration). The reader has in his hand a book with a beautiful poetic structure, a poetry fed by powerful contrasts permeating him and his poetic being through stormy and tragic years part of which was the author. Translated by Avni Spahiu
Romanian Opinions on Albanian Literature
“Bread of the Verse” and “Water of the Word”
Jeton Kelmendi is a good constructor of verse impressing through his ability to find the symbolic, imagination and metaphor of an authenticity and fragility which can rarely be found and only in authors gifted with a talent, where he finds the plain of the word, silence body, word wounds, the whitewashed bones of the lyric, etc.. His anthology is the shore of exile, self-exile of every modern man and at last of one’s country in which, although infrequently, letters continue to arrive. And, together with them, the secret and magic murmur of poetry.
Florentin Popescu (Buchurest) Romania
Some time ago, the Romanian readers were surprised to meet with another true poet – from the many, valued and interesting, original and beautiful poets of Kosova – a blessed yonder which beyond the known historical injustices proves to be a literary space continuing its affirmation an imposing itself increasingly in the universal concert of the lyrical world. The name of this poet is Jeton Kelmendi, and his volume, translated into Romanian by Baki Ymeri, carries a title which is not only suggestive but also burdened with a sentimental and symbolic: How rarely we receive letters.
Jeton Kelmendi had his debut at the age of 21, in 1999, with his volume, Century of Promises, meaning that the poet allows us understand that, at least through his title of the book, had a mature and entirely conscientious vision of the meaning of the bard and a disturbed century in which he was destined to live. By the way, it should be pointed out that Jeton Kelmendi has proven to be extremely inspired by the fact of his later volumes with potentially ‘polemical’ and inciting titles such as: Beyond Silence (2002), If it were Midday (2004) Give me Little Fatherland (2005), Where do Arrivals Go (2007), Lady Word (2007), and How Seldom They Come (2007).
The volume that gives us an opportunity to express our thoughts and impressions on paper is an anthology of selected anthological values from his entire work carries a title bearing a modern figure on loan from the poet’s most inspired poems. We say this not by accident at this Bucharest presentation that this is indeed an inspired title as it in fact holds in itself an entire lyrical universe. That is a universe that individualizes the author giving shape to an incomparable personality both in the Kosovar and European poetry.
By risking the possibility of having to ask for an excuse if we point out an already known truth – that man is his poetry, and that poetry is the man himself, we are saying that Jeton Kelmendi expresses himself directly, sincerely, and without the tam/tams in the torments of the literary figure which would otherwise betray him at once. Jeton Kelmendi is in fact distinguished with his entire being in the agitated times which we all experience – a poet of love and the pen, of contemplation against the passing of time and human condition. And, if we can summarize in a single word all of his creativity we do not know which would be the best suited: Simplicity, Sincerity, Secrecy, Whisper, Testimony? We do not know as the author has something of all of that.
The author’s wish is to communicate to the others something of his own world filled with golden spirit. A simple testimony made for his love from which gurgles a generalizing value, like in the poem “Word surpassing silence”: ‘Yesterday I learnt/ how to keep silent/ Speak little/ I am full of sadness breath/ Through tired eyelashes/ Of you eyes/ I’ve walked towards you long ago/ To speak in silence/ Tell your story/ And mine/ And I thought/ To tell you/ That you are/ The bread of verses/ Water of words/ I am for you/ The most sought for song/ An old-living!’. We see here some kind of an abruption of perspective, the poet pronouncing in the finale a most suitable imagery as a most suggestive comparison of feeling in the sound of an “old-time” melody wrapped up on its perfume and nostalgia.
In this sense, contemplation and longing mingle with the condition of “waiting” and melancholy of the moment in which if the ‘roads lead to exile’ one could hardly find anyone. Someone stuck between darkness and light ‘suffering from the word’ against an unexpressed, dreamed song felt and much awaited. We do not know how the poet presented himself in his first volumes as we had no way of knowing, but here he comes out as an inspired bard and fine ‘constructor’ of verse impressive through his ability to know how to find the symbol, imagination and metaphor of an originality and softness which we meet but rarely and only in talented authors, where he finds his word’s field, body of silence, word’s wounds, whitewashed bones of lyrics…
“How rarely letters come”, the poet says. And, by this we understand, in fact, the anxiety to see a 20th century man ranking amidst the tides of life as a loyal soldier of humanity, estranged by sincere sensitivity, experiences and beautiful sentiments, but also by a quiet and romantic past from which every one of us maintain a piece in our own selves. To these – and not only to these – Jeton Kelmendi consecrates a good part of poems and also to his love viewed as some kind of an exile from the sadness and follies of the modern world – a very interesting fact (in Romanian: fapt foarte interesant), and which cannot pass unnoticed by the reader as a lover of poetry sharing, without doubt, the guilt with the poet.
Jeton Kelmendi’s anthology appears to us rather as a ‘color stain’ in the lyrical context practiced today in the world. It is the bank of exile, self-exile of every modern man and in the same time the place in which, although rarely, letters still arrive. And, with them comes the secret and enchanting murmur of poyetry. (Bucharest, April 30th, 2008).
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Note biographique:
Le poète Jeton KELMENDI est né à Pejë (Kosovo) en 1978.
Il a fait ses études primaires et secondaires dans sa ville natale. Il est licencié de journalisme de l’Université de Prishtina. Actuellement, Kelmendi poursuit ses études supérieures à l’Université Libre de Bruxelles (Politique internationale et Problèmes de sécurité). Parallèlement à ses travaux universitaires, il écrit et publie plusieurs recueils de poésies. Jeton Kelmendi est collaborateur de bon nombre de médias, albanais et étrangeres, traitant essentiellement d’affaires culturelles et politiques.
Kelmendi s’est fait connaître par le large public grâce à son premier ouvrage poétique “Le siècle des promesses”, publié en 1999 et qui a connu un immense succès. Ses poésies sont traduites en 22 langues et publiées dans beaucoup d’anthologies.
Il est membre de nombreux clubs internationaux de poètes.
Il est vétéran de la guerre que l’UCK a mené pour l’indépendance de Kossovo (1998-1999)
A présent Kelmendi vit et travaille à Bruxelles.
Ouvrages de l’auteur :
Poésie :
Le siècle des promesses, Rilidja, Prisjhtinë,1999
Par-delà le silence, Faik Konica, Prishtinë, 2002
Peut-être à la mi-journée, Faik Konica, Prishtinë, 2004
Donne-moi un peu de pays, Faik Konica, Prishtinë, 2005
Où nous mènent les événements, Ombra GVG,Tiranë, 2007
Tu viens pour le bruit du vent, Globus R., Tiranë 2008
Le temps lorsqu’il aura du temps, Ideart, Tiranë, 2009
Drame :
Dame parole, 2007
Publications en langues étrangères :
Ce mult s-au rãrit scrisorile / Les lettres sont devenues fort rares (choix de poèmes traduits et publiés en roumain)
A Breath / La respiration (choix de poèmes traduits et publiés en Inde)
Reconnaissance internationale :
Membre de l’Association des journalistes professionnels d’Europe, Bruxelles.
Membre de l’Académie européenne des Sciences, des Arts et des Lettres, Paris.
Grand Prix Internationa Solenzara de Poésie, France.
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Biography of Jeton Kelmendi
Jeton Kelmendi was born in 1978 in the City of Peja, Kosova. He completed elementary school in his birth place. Later he continued his studies at the University of Prishtina and received the degree of Bachelor of Arts in Mass communication. Currently he is completing his graduate studies at the Free University of Brussels, Belgium, specialising in International and Security Studies. For many years he has written poetry, prose, essays and short stories. He is a regular contributor to many newspapers, in Albania and abroad, writing on many cultural and political topics, especially tconcerning international affairs. Jeton Kelmendi became well known in Kosova, after the publication of his first book entitled: “The Century of Promises” ( “Shekulli i premtimeve”), published in 1999. Later he published a number of other books. His poems are translated in more that twenty-two languages and published in a few international Literature Anthologies. He is one of the most translated Albanian Poets. According to a number of literary critics, Kelmendi is the genuine representative of modern Albanian poetry. He is a member of many international poetry clubs and is a contributor to many literary and cultural magazines, especially in English, French and Romanian Languages. The wisdom of his work in the field of Literature is based in the attention that he pays to the poetic expression, modern exploration of the text and the depth of the message. His Genre is focused more on love lyrics and elliptical verse intertwined with metaphors and artistic symbolism. Kelmendi is a veteran of the War of Liberation in Kosovo led by the Kosovo Liberation Army, 1998 -1999. he currently resides and works in Brussels, Belgium.
Published works:
“The Century Promises” ( title of the original: “Shekulli i Premtimeve”), 1999 (poetry)
“Beyond Silence” (“Përtej Heshtjes”), 2002 (poetry)
“If it is afternoon” (“Në qoftë mesditë”), 2004 (poetry)
“Fatherland pardon me” (“Më fal pak Atdhe”), 2005, (poetry)
“Where are the arrivals going” (“Ku shkojnë ardhjet”), 2007 (poetry)
“You arrived for the traces of wind” (“Erdhe për gjurme te erës”, 2008 (poetry)
“Time when it has time” (“Koha kurë të ketë kohë”), 2009 (poetry)
Published plays:
- “The Madam Word” (“Zonja Fjalë”), 2007 (Drama)
Published Works In Foreign Language :
- “Ce mult s-au rãrit scrisorile” (“Sa fortë janë rralluar letrat”); published in Romanian Language.
- “A respiration” (“Frymëmarrje’); published in India
- “Dame parol,” drama; published in French
- “COMME LE COMMENCEMENT EST SILENCIEUX”
(“Ku fillon heshtja”), poetry; Paris, France
- “ΠΟΥ ΠΑΝΕ ΟΙ ΕΡΧΟΜΟΙ (“Ku shkojnë ardhjet”),
Poetry in Greek; Athens, Greece
- “Wie wollen (“Si me dashtë”), poetry; Berlin, Germany
International Awards:
Member of the Association of Professional Journalists of Europe, Brussels, Belgium.
Member of the Academy of Science and Arts of Europe, Paris, France.
SOLENZARA Prestigious International Award, Paris, France.
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SHËNIME PËR AUTORIN
Jeton Kelmendi u lind më 1978 në Pejë-Kosovë.
Shkollën fillore dhe të mesmen i kreu në vendlindje, ndërsa studimet për Komunikim Masiv në Prishtinë, kurse studimet post-diplomike në ULB- Universitetin e Brukselit (Politikat ndërkombëtare dhe çështjet e sigurisë). Vite me radhë shkroi dhe botoi poezi, prozë, ese dhe tregime. Është bashkëpunëtor i shumë medieve, shqiptare e të huaja, ku trajton çështjet të ndryshme kulturore dhe politike, sidomos që kanë të bëjnë me raportet ndërkombëtare. Si emër Jeton Kelmendi u bë i njohur për lexuesin në Kosovë me përmbledhjen e parë me poezi “Shekulli i premtimeve”, të botuar më 1999. Në vijim botoi edhe një serë librash të tjera. Poezitë e tij u përkthyen në më shumë se 22 gjuhë të huaja, u botuan në disa antologji ndërkombëtare. Është njëri nder poetet më të përkthyer shqiptar. Ai është përfaqësues i denjë i poezisë moderne shqiptare është thënë nga kritika letrare. Kelmendi është anëtar i disa klubeve ndërkombëtare të poetëve dhe bashkëpunon me disa revista letrare e kulturore, sidomos në gjuhët angleze, franceze dhe rumune. Qenësia e punës së tij në fushën e artit letrar është kujdesi që i kushton të shprehurit poetik, shtjellimit modern të tekstit dhe thellësisë së mesazhit. Në krijimtarinë e tij veçohet sidomos lirika e dashurisë dhe vargu eliptik i ndërthurur me metafora dhe simbole artistike. Është veteran i luftës që bëri UÇK-ja më 1998 -1999. Aktualisht punon dhe jeton në Bruksel.
Tituj të veprave
Shekulli i Premtimeve, 1999 (poezi)
Përtej Heshtjes, 2002 (poezi)
Në qoftë mesditë, 2004 (poezi)
Më fal pak Atdhe, 2005 (poezi)
Ku shkojnë ardhjet, 2007 (poezi)
Erdhe për gjurme te erës, 2008 (poezi)
Koha kurë të ketë kohë, 2009 (poezi)
Dramë
Zonja Fjalë 2007 (dramë)
Në gjuhë të huaja
-Ce mult s-au rãrit scrisorile /Sa fortë janë rralluar letrat në Gjuhën Rumune
-A breath /frymëmarrje në Indi
-Dame parol drama Francë
-COMME LE COMMENCEMENT EST SILENCIEUX (Ku fillon heshtja) poezi Paris
-ΠΟΥ ΠΑΝΕ ΟΙ ΕΡΧΟΜΟΙ (Ku shkojnë ardhjet) poezi në Greqi -Wie wollen (Si me dashtë) poezi Gjermani
Mirënjohje ndërkombëtare
Anëtar i Asociacionit të gazetarëve profesionit të Evropës, Bruksel
Anëtar i Akademisë së Shkencave dhe Arteve të Evropës, Paris
Çmimi prestigjioz ndërkombëtar SOLENZARA, Paris
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