IRSA RUÇI - POEMS

Irsa Ruçi is an Albanian Writer, Speechwriter and Lecturer. She was born in Tirana, Albania, in 1990. Her books of poetry include “Trokas mbi ajër (poems and essays), 2008 and Pështjellim (poetry), 2010. She has been published in anthologies: Antologji, 2007; I kërkoj agimit vesën, 2008; Antologji poetike “Kushtuar dashurisë”, 2014; Antologji poetike “Udha”, 2014; Antologji poetike, 2014; “Malli dhe brenga nga distancat”, 2014; Antologji poetike “Qyteti”, 2014; Poeteca, 2015; and her works has appeared in a number of print and online national and international magazines, including Sling Magazine, Issue 5; Ann Arbor Review, Issue 15; Poeteca Magazine, Issue 35; Aquillrelle Anthology, 2015, Aquillrelle Anthology, 2016, Metaphor Magazine Issue 5, The Commonline Journal, Issue 4/22 etc. And Among many awards, she has received the first prize in poetry, in competition "Anthology 2007", as the best poet in Albania.

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​                                  Waiting for light
 
I’ll stand till the dragonflies
Be aware that you can’t play with time
Without reflecting it in the peaceful times
Discretion of night,
But the strange side of the day
Is lost…
 
Then, I’ll stand a little for my self
Till I write all the lines I want
Before dragonflies be gone.
 
The cherry tree will blossom
Till I end the last poem
Written unconsciously
Written in absence
While I was waiting the birth of dragonflies!
 
I’ll stand till I have wiped out
The last tear of sadness
In the polluted pond of our consciousness.
 
 
© Irsa Ruçi    (Translated by Silva Daci)
 
 
 

 
                                 Self to oneself
 
In dreams confused in this night’s sleep
I got to know you unintentionally
Appearing innocently: without the daily masque!
 
I started to spy
Sneakily
With the other’s compassion
That is so merciless
Like a war of hyenas
Made up devilishly only for attention…
 
You were so beautiful where others are gone
Free,
Invincible,
Almost a character borrowed from fairy tales
It was you,
Without the creature you carry in your shoulders
Every time the world turns in despise
Shown with the glory of simplicity  
Of the poet
Who sacrifices himself till becoming one with the lines
To give light to the cold earth.
 
But the night put off the candle: and my eyes
Got blind
Till they turned recognisable, time stole the truth away
Beyond the consciousness…
 
The human is frail in front of himself
Because the evil only weighs to the self…
    
 
© Irsa Ruçi    (Translated by Silva Daci)
 

​                         The melody in lines
 
The spirit’s melody inside
Is the recreation of the human is his art
The discreteness of the endless sight
Merged in sensations.
 
The wine’s taste like woman’s scent
Strong
Dazzling
Piercing
Till the madness of thought
(…drink is consumed after you tried
the nectar of life
in sweetness of ever – ending moments!)
 
Lucid is the deepness of red, like the girlish virginity
In that body of dreams
Knitted with the strange
In the soft lip of a lady bug 
Who gets drunk by wine drops.
 
They say that the best poems are written
When the foolish poets betray their lines
For a glass of wine…
 
 
© Irsa Ruçi    (Translated by Silva Daci)
 
 

​                                     Conveyance
 
In the mirror we pretend to see our self
Appears the other, like an unaware consciousness
That weighs in the tired face
Of strange perceptions…
 
Am I what I see, or do I see that image that I’ve been told
I am and try to find bridges
Between my soul and the world?
 
What if myself to be the other
Who after grabs my masque
Seeks to appear like me
Reflecting the same
Thoughts,
Attitudes,
Delirious imaginations 
With which I fight the daily monotony…
 
…One day I spied my shadow while conspiring
With the reflected shadow of my own shadow
And I discovered that I am the society product
Which lives with the appearance and hides
From the consciousness.
 
… In the mirror we only see our fears!
 
 
© Irsa Ruçi    (Translated by Silva Daci)