Gjergj Kola- Albania/ Austria

Gjergj Kola- Albania/ Austria





oh luck of rose!

To grasp you in the hand

Your fingers will be filled by blood

And become feathers of love

For your blood holds the foundation steady

When still today

Hyenas dig with their bloody snouts.

And you die there everyday

And every single day

They change their looks

At times jackals and sometimes hounds

For you are love

In self-perfection.



These ladies with their smooth walk

Over my feather they rush

Like seagulls in the blueish umbrella

By the endless sea and they know not

How the horizon light brightens them

When the sky and the earth become one with the walk

And from them comes out that girl

In the protecting hand of the childhood

And greets the world from far with their eyes wide open

With a white handkerchief of clouds.


From these ladies with childs by their hands

Who walk everyday beside the horizon

Often times comes that lovely girl

Who jumps over the shoulders of the childhood sea,


These ladies with their smooth walk

Who never became women with grown children

But remained the long-standing girls

That the chilhood stil holds their hands.

Saint Mary with a boy in her arms

On a long road to Egypt

Eyes full of hope that one day she will come back

In the house of the childhood’s angel:

These ladies with the girlish soft heart,

climb uphill on the narrow path of life

and stop only so to pray with their watery heart…



Often times waiting is more than a challenge

For our heart’s unpatience to become human

Who know how to love the human in the others

More than a boundary to cross beyond the bridge

Where the road and the purpose have become one

And dance hand by hand.

Just like the short road that becomes the long one

Often times the long waiting shortens the coming

So love is the only bench of marble

Where the history sits and writes those little rows of time

To remaind forever stable in us.

You and me beautiful soul have sat there many time and

Waited for the love that was always present

In the invisible lines that hold ur hearts

and those of the soft marble

alive and attached.