leon-qafzezi
Albanian
Leon Qafzezi Writer,Filmmaker,Critic / Live and work in Albania.Writen in varrious forms but always in a coherent personal style,like every / one of us in order to discover that life is a journey;philosophical vision,irony and sarcasm... / It books at love and idols,the illusion,the agony of creation,irony of life in this crazy time,full of mad moral,past and present in her sposmodic an corruption Albania country. / On the writer in this period Leon Qafzezi is no doubt is important new albanian voice of the our days.First attained writing success in 1997 with the publication of his novel"The Passport for Hell"Perhaps,his best novels and considered to be last four"The market of Dreams"1998,"Black Hole"1998,"Sky down"1998,and poetry books"Eda"1996,and "Funeral of lives"2013.He is a writer of international novel a story with brings together person of different nationalities who represent certain typical characteristics of their country...Now is independent writer and filmmaker...
My heart like crazy horse,
Run at hottest areas of love ...
And finds the source in a kiss
Under the shade of an old tree
Gray leaves, moldy body,
Time flows in waves lust
Groaning in ecstasy, the moon,
Late at night, when twilight has turned ...
With contempt ...
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 1:42 PM UTC
My Africa ...
Lost in her eyes
Safar of my filing ..
Without what African sun
Born every day in the morning
in her eyes ..
And dies every evening
In my eyes ...
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 1:26 PM UTC
Beyond those lights ...
Even before those lights,
There far away..Where sea lost in the horizon
Again bored people will find,
Since condolence genes in black coffee,
They openly speak of God
They secretly revile the government ....
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 1:19 PM UTC
My trembling Paris,
When I come e don't find you..
Paris my sadness,
When I sit at the Bar"Motte Piquett"and..
Cafe drink with you as before..
Paris my pain,
We emptiness of table
We once were at my mam,Paris,
Paris,lonely,you also...
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 12:54 PM UTC
Run like a crazy for your coffin
Run in fever for finding a bus..
That will carry people,pain,team..
Run to refuge,residence cemetery
But and for going there you need a friend...
Friend for a grave,gravedigger friend...
To seems like you and not somebody ellse
Friend for marble,friend for...
Run,run in this funeral
Funeral of lives..
Run,like in my funeral.
Leon Qafzezi poetry 2013
Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 1:37 PM UTC