Sokol Demaku

is poet, prose writer, pedagogue, publicist, redactor. Was born on 1954, in Arbri of Drenica, where finished the primary school. In Prishtina finished the high school (Normale) and studied Literature and Albanian language. Is graduated in the University of Göteborg, Sweden for mathematics, and in High School of Borås has studied the pedagogy. Works as a teacher and leads a monthly magazine “Dituria”(Knowledge”) in Sweden, and a local radio also”Radio Dituria”(” The knowledge radio”). From June 2013 leads also a TV Albanian channel in Borås-Sweden. From 2012 is active member of Writers League of Sweden, Translaters League of Sweden and of the Swedish PEN. At the moment is studying masters at the University Göteborg of Sweden in the Pedagogy branch.


That dark night
In the middle of
Acompained by flowers
I left my black cutting
Up over your shoulder
Wet, as if when is raining.
I wet my lips with yours
I felt an odour of warm
From your breasts rely on my chest.
It was the boyishly caress
That warned me with fire
Was the love that lit my body up.
Please stay by me Kiss me
Wet my dry lip
Heal my wound
That in my heart
I hold.


When you,
caress me,
it seems to me that
the earth is opening up.
When you,
give me the kiss,
it seems to be
the angels are in me.
When you, watch me,
my heart is beating restless.
When you,
love me,
I feel the world has stopped.
When you,
belongs to me,
I feel flying.
I open my wings want to fled,
don’t want any more to dream.
I play in love’s game,
your dance gives life,
heals my wounds.
Let me to express
what can give you
the deserved love like
no one other.
Nothing stopp
me neither
ice nor the cold,
because my heart
gets warmer by your love.

calm night,
For the tired soul.
Only with my verse,
the lost rhyma
Time I should find,
Letters tired,
Unformed verse
A smile from far,
My soul I feel
My heart has a rhythm.
In the blue eye,
I see the clear tear,
shines as a candle,
gives me hope,
for the future in life.
Verse’s inspiration,
for the beauty love.
For the wingbright dove,
Flying in the world Come, dove,
I want to indent you,
To start you
on the journey
Field and mountain “soaring”
gives to my birthplace,
My heart and soul to get calm…
So, in a hurry,
start to fly,
in this journey take with you,
My deep longing,
dear bird,
Go to find the written eyes,
to light them for the future.
That’s my heart
indent for my warmest birthplace
in the daybreak that it is reborning.

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