Archive for the ‘Në gjuhë origjinale’ Category

On Occasion, I Write Pretty Well



In March, A Scrawny Cry




At the earliest ending of winter,
In March, a scrawny cry from outside
Seemed like a sound in his mind.

Wallace Stevens


nga Lulian KODRA


There is no way of telling this particular episode that our little secluded town went through other than to directly address the reader, with the hope that I will be forgiven for the lack of art that goes hand in hand with such a direct manner of address. I have my reasons for this approach, for pushing you to first enter this story as a participating character and leading you along a roundabout way rather then simply telling it, and these reasons will soon be made clear to you too, most important among which is the bizarre nature of this episode that revolved around the women of our town and their mysterious behavior for about a month. I do not promise that your curiosity shall be satisfied, since most of it is probably going to be as inexplicable to you as it is to me and to everyone in our town, but I believe your patience will be worth these few pages. (more…)




nga Lulian KODRA

“You’re not staying in a hotel room,” said my brother at some point during the funeral service. “We’ll set you guys up in mom’s bedroom.” (more…)

The History Teacher


clock (1)

nga Lulian KODRA
It happened a long time ago and it all happened very fast. (more…)



Nga Alessandro Baricco

Click to access Seta.pdf

Italo Calvino: perché scrivo


Italo Calvino

Scrivo perché non ero dotato per il commercio, non ero dotato per lo sport, non ero dotato per tante altre, ero un poco…, per usare una fase famosa [di Sartre], l’idiota della famiglia… In genere chi scrive è uno che, tra le tante cose che tenta di fare, vede che stare a tavolino e buttar fuori della roba che esce dalla sua testa e dalla sua penna è un modo per realizzarsi e per comunicare. (more…)

Long Branch



L’importanza di essere in sintonia con l’universo


Që është një film i shkurtër që kanë bërë nga një tregim im quajtur “Hajdutë biçikletash” por është pjesë e një projekti me te gjerë.

Mund ta gjeni edhe te Internazionale, Corriere della Sera ( ku ka 37 dislike, jo shaka) , Darien Levani etj etj.

Me këtë tregim unë doja të anulloja detin e të tregoja më qartë atë që ndodh këtej. Qëllime të mëdha, arritje të vogla. Shumë pyetje, shumë dyshime.

Great American Losers


Pёr cfarё flet letёrsia amerikane sot?


E megjithate nuk arrij të jem dakord me këtë artikull. Them se letërsia amerikane nuk flet për pamundësinë për tu lidhur me njerëz, po për paaftësine për të qënë pjesë e dickaje, për paaftësinë për të dashur.

Këtë ka thënë Palahniuk. Këtë thotë Ellis. Këtë thotë, pak me ndërlikuar, Wallace. Faktin që ‘american dream’ nuk mjafton, që është bosh nga brënda e të nis drejt kërkimit të të resë.

Intervistë me Darien


Intervistë për/pas Qukapik-ut, ku flitet për raki, Vonnegut junior, shërbime sekrete,miq e armiq.

Po sikur…



filmat që duam e që njohim aq mirë të ishin prodhuar në një kohë tjetër, me një teksikë tjetë, me aktorë të tjerë


The Crab Feast


nga David Malouf



There is no getting closer
than this. My tongue slips into
the furthest, sweetest corner
of you. I know all (more…)

Stephen King’s Paranoid: A Chant


I can’t go out no more.

There’s a man by the door
in a raincoat
smoking a cigarette



Follia, mia grande giovane nemica


Alda Merini

(21 Mars 1931 – 01 Nentor 2009)

Follia, mia grande giovane nemica,
un tempo ti portavo come un velo
sopra i miei occhi e mi scoprivo appena.
Mi vide in lontananza il tuo bersaglio
e hai pensato che fossi la tua musa;
quando mi venne quel calar di denti
che ancora mi addolora tra le spoglie,
comprasti quella mela del futuro
per darmi il frutto della tua fragranza.

(ngaBallate non pagate”)

Hemingway për Paris Review


Paris Review nëpër vite ka kryer disa intervista të mrekullueshme. Z-ti i bekoftë, kanë vendosur t’i vënë online këtu. Sjellim integrale, dhe në gjuhë origjinale intervistë me Hemingway. Përgjigja ime e preferuar


Do you find it easy to shift from one literary project to another or do you continue through to finish what you start?


The fact that I am interrupting serious work to answer these questions proves that I am so stupid that I should be penalized severely. I will be. Don’t worry. (more…)

Under the Bridge


Nga Lulian KODRA

I don’t ever wanna feel like I did that day when I caved in against K, a kid from school. K had been bullying since forever this quiet, almost sickly kid and I had gone along with it – in the beginning because it was fun, and then because standing up to K in favor of the quiet kid had proven difficult.

I was one of the smallest kids in school and K protected me from a guy that had a lot of fun bullying me. In exchange I helped him with homework.

After we studied one day, I tried to talk sense to him. Bullying that sickly kid was mean. I believed in my reasoning, and I did my best, but his beliefs were stronger. I kept bringing it up but he kept laughing it off. (more…)

The Englishing of Ismail Kadare : notes of a retranslator


by David Bellos
When I was asked ten years ago by Christopher MacLehose, the literary director of The Harvill Press, to take on the translation into English from the French translation of Ismail Kadare’s Dosja H, I was initially dubious in the extreme. I knew no Albanian (and even now know only the tiniest scraps of that strange and difficult tongue). I also had principles ! Enough damage can be done in one language shift to make a double shift seem like a recipe, if not for disaster, then at least for pretty thin gruel.  (more…)

Love Letters to Bob Dylan


Love Letters to Bob Dylan , Sinéad O’Connor
Dear Bob,

Three questions:

1. Please can I sing “Licence to Kill” with you and Mark Knopfler when you play together in Dublin in October? Infidels is my favorite album ever and I’m quite a good singer. Even if I do say so myself. (more…)




nga Lulian Kodra

….drinking in an old men’s bar,
sitting alone on the table in the corner,
I see the shinny prostitute coming to me.
“What are you looking for?” she says. (more…)

Born into this


Born like this
Into this
As the chalk faces smile
As Mrs. Death laughs
As the elevators break
As political landscapes dissolve (more…)