Angela Kosta was born in Albania in 1973. She has been living in Italy since 1995. She has published 9 books: novels, poems and fairy tales in Albanian and Italian.

Angela Kosta

Angela Kosta is deputy editor-in-chief of the international newspaper Albania Press and A New Window.
Se is also a translator and her publications are seen in various literary magazines and newspapers in Albania, Kosovo and Italy.
She writes articles for the Italian newspaper ‘Calabria Live’.


I have written several lines and endless verses with my tears, pain of love for her.
Where are you, my mother?
I wish to kiss your eyes with goodness once again!
I want to caress your warm hands just the way you used to do.
I want to feel the wrinkles of your untimely old age with my fingers,
I don’t want to see you in such lethargic condition.
Your grey hair are the witness to eternal suffering;
You are irreplaceable to me,
You are my mother Sophie;
I will always love you endlessly,
Like a goddess,
You will live in my soul;
How can I believe that I will never see you again in this life!
You won’t be here anymore;
Didn’t you know that you would be in my breath?
How can you die till I am alive?
Your winsome smile reminds me of the glare of the stars.
The universe of nostalgia fascinates me as you have given light to my life and raised me with the patience of sufferings.

So with great love for your good sake,
Speak up,
Just tell me at least one last word!
How would I live like this?
My mother,
Please read these verses silently.
Don’t be silent!
Ah, I wish I could challenge time and the evil of death.
I will destroy the unfortunate fate and drive away the evils.
I’ll snuggle in your lap again.
Just as I did, when I was a kid.

The lap, where I found a tranquility and solace.
How happy I was then!
When your hands caressed my soul deeply
And my whole being blossomed.
Please don’t go like this to stay beyond the sky.


You ladies,
A fragile martyr,
Return from the lost path where there is no whisper,
Desperate crying of dirty life,
tears of blood, nail scratched bodies having distressed soul;
You ladies,
Stay away from everything that negates the “goddess” in you;
Cross the border of patience and violence
Tear off your faded veil.
The dark eternal mask;
Free yourself from people who don’t deserve you,
your moist smile on the lips;
You ladies,
Live again!
Raise your heads
Open fists holding the power of life;
Bloom again to sing…
Enjoy your freedom coming out of the prison of hatred.
You ladies!
You are great
You are unique
You are holy;
Enjoy and live happily!


A piece of bread
To quench the hunger
For day and night;
A person shouts out for a sad existence,
Searches for it, but fails and finishes in a while.
Being born with the cruel fate, whose fault is it?
Am I to blame myself?
Were we unwanted?
Did we get into the wrong world?
Insatiable hunger,
public negligence,
disappearance of rejoice…

I want to live in clouds and fill myself with air in the universe;
Still the heat from the sun is increasing not enough to melt the frozen blood and faded heartbeats of my brothers.
The ground beneath your feet;
Where a piece of bread,
Don’t fall apart!
Where is the Jesus who takes care of all?
There is no answer!
I have the piece of bread only except my wealth here.

(Translated by the Indian poet Dilip Mewada)

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