Poems of Kujtim Hajdari (Albania)

                               KUJTIM HAJDARI

He is an Albanian poet, writer, translator, publisher, literary critic, and promoter. He writes in Albanian, Italian, and more recently in English. Now he lives in the USA.
Kujtim Hajdari is a finalist for "AUTHOR OF THE YEAR 2025" in Hollywood, USA, with his poetry book "Through the Waves of Life.” The ceremony for this major international event will take place on October 4, 2025, at the Hollywood Salon in California, USA.
This is his second major award after winning the "INTERNATIONAL IMPACT BOOK AWARDS" in August 2024.
Since then, he has published 18 poetry collections, three novels, and translated numerous volumes.
He has participated in over 50 national and international competitions, receiving numerous awards in nearly all of them, including cups, diplomas, certificates, and more.
He has participated in over 180 national and international anthologies in three languages: Albanian, Italian, and English. His poetry has been translated and published in over 25 countries.
He is the publisher of the anthology ”All Together” on Amazon, which features creators from around the world.


STATUE OF WEARINESS 
Kujtim Hajdari

I saw my statue of weariness one day,
(The statue that took me a lifetime to carve)
In the corner of the street,
Shaking off the dust of forgetfulness.

But I still walk, whether with a slow step,
Under clouds with rain reflections,
Even though the asphalt scorches beneath my feet,
Where shadows fade and die,
And the sky, out of mercy,
With a gray ribbon,
Binds the forehead of my pains.
*
The echo of laughter fades,
Like whispers that dissolve in the wind,
Tired, worn out,
From the lullaby of my steps,
Worried, troubled,
By the bronchitis of words that suffocate me.
*
My heavy footsteps entangle the paths of the evening,
Each one asking me something,
About the metamorphosis of horizons,
Why do they blur in the background?
They ask me about the deaf-mute history,
That neither speaks nor listens anymore.
* 

Mirages of figures with hidden names,
Like shadows of buried ghosts,
Darken the twilight even more for me,
The sun, frightened, runs downhill,
And hides in the ocean of mysteries,
The night swallows even the hope that is lost.
*
Even though the mud of sadness could not,
It could not stain or bind my shoes.
Time escapes me again and hides,
Teases me and slips away,
Like the fine sand of the shore through my fingers.
*
Moments scatter and hide,
In the chaos of modern life filled with noise,
That leaves my statue of weariness alone, in agony,
My poor statue of fatigue,
This world that rushes by without knowing where…

*
Even why I am weary,
Still, I walk on the uncertain path,
Carrying the heavy weight
Of unfulfilled or dead dreams,
Still keeping my step in harmony,
Chasing the glimmer of hope’s light,
That softly whispers to me:
Go on, friend, go on!
The world will call you someday.

*
And I carry my statue with pain,
(The statue that took me a lifetime to carve)
with trembling ethereal hands.
The statue of weariness,
darkened by oblivion,
and I set it atop the back of the globe.
The globe forgets:
without my statue of weariness,
it will remain somewhere,
losing its speed—just like the silent statue,
forgotten by the world,
which is losing its glory. 



O SEA!
Kujtim Hajdari

O sea, how much I have encountered and often forgotten,
With you, the bitter world, and the past life,
How many times have you raised me to the sky,
How many times have you brought me down to the darkness?

How many times have I rested in your breeze,
Like by the glass of wine - drunk as crazy,
When the heavy years were killing me on my back,
Time hurled mud and pain at me mercilessly.

In the arms of sadness when I laid like a stone on board,
You grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me hard,
And I stormed among the waves,
I looked everywhere for a thread of hope.

How many times with tears have I seen the end,
When I stubbornly pulled myself,
Sometimes, you have put fear and terror in me,
In your rage, and I looked at Hell.

Sometimes, you crash on the shore like a sandbar,
Sometimes on top of the waves with freedom giving,
The marks along the shore still remain,
As in the sun, the image of a tanned face.

And the white grey that the waves have laid,
Their traces have been left on my hair,
But still, among the waves, I want to be,
And the challenges with you, I still want to have.


©®Kujtim Hajdari