Illustration by Arpan Roy


Everything is different, in the horizon the Sun is crumbled

The crumbles remained on the earth’s heart like triumphant arrows.
We can’t recognize the colors through the wind caressing the memory

We do not read poetry in the universe of foolishness

Where relations between darkness and light

Appear just like relations between the wall and thought.

Behind is played the surprising game, just like before

Birds are falling in the ground, just like in times when hell was written,

Oh God, everything has changed

At a time when a small fence darkening our big eyes.

The moon finds a path through mummy hands remaining like arrows towards the sky

And the sun dissolving just like a candle through tired eyes

Who can’t see anything in the blue sky, except a small cloud

A cloud darkening everything

Therefore vision is coiled in space

Just like the wind creating its avalanche

Then many faces appear.

At a night, when everything is different,

Containing inside the borders within your head

When your feet walk through illusions

And squeeze their bad dreams

For the time that isn’t

For the time that wasn’t

For the time that will not come

For the time that goes with the wind.

Utopia struggling against reality

Her dreams hiding at the corner of secrets

Are swallowed


Godo Is Here

It is night, the storm is going mad
Your wet body is shaking from the heavy rain
Under the tree of life while waiting for Godo.
The reception has transformed you into a modern statue
Where the lonely birds and night crows have their life nests.

Your solitude is crouching as a tied sneak
Between which the poisonous tongue is vitalized.
Suddenly is heard an energetic beating, you did not hear it.
Your ears are closed from the warms climbing over your body
Climbing just as the old man in front of the law on Kafka’s story.
Waiting to enter in the mysteries of law, I am sorry, I meant mysteries of Godo.
To understand the mystery of absurdity in equal level
With those of dehumanization.
My God,
Godo is here, with his confusing look and his torn sack,
With lost desires during the long road of return
Under the tree of life where you waited endlessly.

You did not recognize him,
He returned with a different face which you never imagined.
With the tired voice you had never heard,
With the turbulent vision you had seen.
Sadness astounded your body. The warms are falling down
from your body which is transformed into waiting.

Sadly you grabbed the spoiled head, and run through his sack
While searching your dried dreams just as the autumn leafs
Through which the drunk feet are walking
And your tears started falling in your neck and cheek
You felt in the arms of sadness
Welcomed him just as the bride waiting for the groom in the abandoned bed,

While dreaming with open arms to have nearby the sack full of dreams
Where softly you place your hands, just as in the lovely hair…relaxing there
And begging for your dream, intertwined in your long fingers.
And while wiping your forehead you understand that Godo arrived and your wait remained an endless wait.

About the Poet

11174848_10153231483490699_8021413393212463438_nNdue Ukaj (1977) is Albanian writer, publicist and literary critic. He was member of several editorials literary. He has also been editor of the magazine for art, culture and society “Identity” that was published in Pristina. Ukaj is included in several anthologies of poetry, in Albanian, and other languages. He has published five books, including “Godo is not coming”, which won the national award for best book of poetry published in 2010 in Kosovo. He has also won the award for best poems in the International Poetry Festival in Macedonia. He also won Prizes in 2013: The International Best Poets, Translators, Critics, and Poetry Magazines, Selections of Poems, IPTRC in Chines and Creativity prizes’ in Naji Naaman’s Literary Prizes 2016. His poems and texts are translated into English, Spanish, Italian, Romanian, Finish, Swedish, Turkish, and Chinese. Ukaj is member of Swedish PEN.