Ndue Ukaj

Ndue Ukaj Poems

It is raining, the road from Ireland is unpassable
The sea cannot be passed with small steps, on rainy nights
When solitude is overwhelming you enjoy the earthquake cracks of the Earth
When pain has no time even for scientific explanation.
...

Utopia
Ndue Ukaj

Everything is different, in the horizon the Sun is crumbled
...

In the city of a cloud
...

Godo Is Coming

Stop crying continuously, Godo is coming
The storm has stopped, the road from Irland is open
...

A New day

I am awake and sitting in front of the window.
It is open, just like my eyes, just like my mouth
...

In a train station

Crowds of people
Run towards many directions
...

Despair has no home,
but dwells wherever meaning is lost
and the story of the Other begins.
Where false witnesses take the big step forward,
...

The latest news starts with beautiful tales:
It was once a time of hope and a happy city.
Now there is smoke, fog, and grief stones.
People walk around confused, drink coffee with ghosts,
...

9.

Nude Ukaj

It is morning
and the good news doesn't come as the melody of the birds:
...

Ndue Ukaj Biography

Ndue Ukaj was born in Kosova. He is a writer, essayist, and literary critic. To date, he has published five poetry books, one short story collections, a novel, and two literary criticism books. He won several awards, including the national award for best book of poetry published in 2010 in Kosovo. His literary works have been published in distinguished international anthologies and journals and have been translated into many languages.)

The Best Poem Of Ndue Ukaj

Godo Is Not Coming

It is raining, the road from Ireland is unpassable
The sea cannot be passed with small steps, on rainy nights
When solitude is overwhelming you enjoy the earthquake cracks of the Earth
When pain has no time even for scientific explanation.

Godo is not coming, it is late, infected by the welcoming
Sleeping comfortably, amongst both of our dreams.
He is not coming, neither under the tree of life nor in the theater of wonders,
Under the sleep of expectation which your time doesn't understand...our time.

You are waiting, like the bride on the abandoned bed,
Dreaming of him with open arms as he brings a sack full of dreams
Extending your hands with softness, as in the beloved hair...relaxes there
And prays to your dreams, intertwined through your tall fingers.
Suddenly a bite freezes your body, your hand flies from the sack.
Wiping your forehead you understand that Godo didn't come, neither his enigmatic look.
Nonetheless you are not convinced that your dream entered in a sack.
It was tied forever just like Godo's arrival.
Surprisingly passed on the other side of the furious river of words
As you pass amongst the dreams full of wonders towards the guards of time
That makes the noise of life in the dream of expectation.
Nearby the time guards
Foster the hope that Godo nevertheless will come.

Godo is not coming, no!
You are crying, crying frantically until your tears have made a creek
Between your cheeks and your continuous flow of tears.
Where the heart beats are felt like the steps of the unknown
In the gloomy night when grief is around the corner
And even Godo could experience it on his hands and be thrown desperately.

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