IRMA KURTI

IRMA KURTI Poems

I miss your voice so much, Dad.
When our talks went on for hours;
that sweet music is only
an echo now.
...

Talking with you
on the phone
is difficult—
the sound
...

It's early in the morning, my steps
are heard and all around are asleep.
The shop shutters will open slowly
like eyelids after a restless night.
...

I had to spend
a lifetime
to realize
that loneliness
...

This magical sunset fixes snowflakes
as they fall confused and disorderly,
falling in love with each one of them.
...

It's the time of the fading of values,
of the loss of friends one by one,
just like the trees lose their leaves
as the season of autumn arrives.
...

The day when I'll tell you: "Goodbye"
and I will leave forever this world,
wet from tears of sadness and despair
I will shout loudly until I have a voice.
...

I have forgotten how to be a woman:
wear an elegant dress with high heels,
try to provoke someone with my charm,
put on makeup and apply lipstick.
...

IRMA KURTI Biography

Irma Kurti is an Albanian poetess, writer and journalist naturalized Italian. She is also well known as the lyrics writer of many famous Albanian songs. Her books have been translated into English, Italian, Spanish, Romanian, Serbian and other languages. She has received numerous literary awards in Italy and Switzerland. In 2013, she won the IX Edition International Prize Universum Donna (equivalent to Woman of the Year) and the Ambassador of Peace nomination from the University of Peace in Lugano, Switzerland. In 2020, she received the title of Honorary President of WikiPoesia, the Italian Encyclopedia of Poetry. Irma Kurti has published twenty- one books in Albanian, fourteen in Italian, and four in English. She lives in Italy.)

The Best Poem Of IRMA KURTI

I Miss Your Voice

I miss your voice so much, Dad.
When our talks went on for hours;
that sweet music is only
an echo now.


I try to bring it back to memory,
it gets lost; it vanishes in the dark.
My gaze is wet with tears, I stay
close to you and I suddenly blush.


My first verses lay insecure, just
like dozens of buds in your hands
you seized them and chased away my fears,
for you were my best critic, Dad.


I didn't know there were diseases
that forever can steal the voice,
taking every word away from you,
the bridge that connectedus both.


I'll translate your look into words,
I'll be pleased with the silence,
in my soul I'll keep as a rainbow
your sweet and unique smile.

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