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Publisher online and owner: Sabahudin Hadžialić, MSc Sarajevo & Bugojno, Bosnia and Herzegovina MI OBJEDINJUJEMO RAZLIČITOSTI... WE ARE UNIFYING DIVERSITIES |
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Bardhyl Maliqi, Sarande, Albania
Name: Bardhyl MALIQI
Birthdate: July 19, 1955
Address: Lagjia nr. 2, Rruga nr. 5
Sarande
E-mail: [email protected]
Employment: Saranda University Professor &
"Hasan Tahsini" Secondary School teacher.
Education and training:
1962-1969 "Bido Sejko" Middle-School Konispol,
1969-1974 High School of Foreign Languages, "Asim Zeneli" Russian branch, Tirana,
1974-1978 Shkodra University, Linguistics & Literature branch,
1983-1984 Graduate specialization for pedagogy and psychology, University of Tirana,
2002-2004 Postgraduate Studies, "Master" in teaching,
2007-2011 “Doctor degree” in education science.
* All studies were carried out with high scores.
1977 Membership card in the Writers and Artists of Albania
1978 Certificate for Spelling Knowledge
1993 Certificate for Computer knowledge, Saranda
1998 Certificate for qualification 1-st degree, as a teacher of literature
1998 5-year certificate for participation in AEDP projects’ works , Tirana,
1999 Testimony to the Internet MASH-World Bank, Tirana,
2003 Certificate of English, International Language Centre, Tirana
2004 Certificate of Russian language, UT,
2006 Driving license
1995-2008 Certificate and proof of qualifications of different Council of Europe Culture-contact, ISP, MES, Soros etc.., As the democratic changes in school and community, Kualida, Critical and Creative Thinking, School Autonomy, Global Education, etc.
Work experience: Since 1977 - 2011, I have worked in various positions in education as a teacher in the middle school and high school for language and literature, Russian language and psychology, as a specialist, education consultant and inspector. I've written 15 books, of which 5 have been published: risk taste (essay), mirrors (poetry), Critique ofcompositions (study) and Morphology - shortcut for students (college text) and a book of poems "The Anxiety of statues"
Bottom of Form
9 regional and national awards for literary works and artistic competitions,
29 regional and national awards of students.
Trainer training for teachers Attestation effect from 1984 to 2006,
879 articles, a good portion of them published in literary press.
153 books editing
Marital Status: Married, two daughters at the University of Tirana- Pharmacy, son, a middle school student.
Birthdate: July 19, 1955
Address: Lagjia nr. 2, Rruga nr. 5
Sarande
E-mail: [email protected]
Employment: Saranda University Professor &
"Hasan Tahsini" Secondary School teacher.
Education and training:
1962-1969 "Bido Sejko" Middle-School Konispol,
1969-1974 High School of Foreign Languages, "Asim Zeneli" Russian branch, Tirana,
1974-1978 Shkodra University, Linguistics & Literature branch,
1983-1984 Graduate specialization for pedagogy and psychology, University of Tirana,
2002-2004 Postgraduate Studies, "Master" in teaching,
2007-2011 “Doctor degree” in education science.
* All studies were carried out with high scores.
1977 Membership card in the Writers and Artists of Albania
1978 Certificate for Spelling Knowledge
1993 Certificate for Computer knowledge, Saranda
1998 Certificate for qualification 1-st degree, as a teacher of literature
1998 5-year certificate for participation in AEDP projects’ works , Tirana,
1999 Testimony to the Internet MASH-World Bank, Tirana,
2003 Certificate of English, International Language Centre, Tirana
2004 Certificate of Russian language, UT,
2006 Driving license
1995-2008 Certificate and proof of qualifications of different Council of Europe Culture-contact, ISP, MES, Soros etc.., As the democratic changes in school and community, Kualida, Critical and Creative Thinking, School Autonomy, Global Education, etc.
Work experience: Since 1977 - 2011, I have worked in various positions in education as a teacher in the middle school and high school for language and literature, Russian language and psychology, as a specialist, education consultant and inspector. I've written 15 books, of which 5 have been published: risk taste (essay), mirrors (poetry), Critique ofcompositions (study) and Morphology - shortcut for students (college text) and a book of poems "The Anxiety of statues"
Bottom of Form
9 regional and national awards for literary works and artistic competitions,
29 regional and national awards of students.
Trainer training for teachers Attestation effect from 1984 to 2006,
879 articles, a good portion of them published in literary press.
153 books editing
Marital Status: Married, two daughters at the University of Tirana- Pharmacy, son, a middle school student.
VILLA AMIRA, Street Ante Starčevića 33,
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LP vinyl sell from
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Odsjaji slobode
Prošlost budućnosti stremi dok sloboda, kao pretpostavka žestine iskaza unutar blagosti mogućih nadanja, u poeziji Bardhyl Maliqija traži opstojnost. Apsolutna sloboda ne postoji, ali, svjestan upravo toga, njemu ništa drugo ne preostaje do da teži upravo tome. Beskrajnoj predanosti borbi usmjerenoj slobodi, kao ptica koja u letu traži spas. No, i pad je let dok se neprestano, kao Feniks, uzdiže usmjeren Suncu. Nadanja. I vjere. Riječ urednika Sabahudin Hadžialić gl. i odg. urednik 21.12.2011. |
Reflections of freedom
Past aims towards future while freedom, as a prerequisite for the severity of testimony within the gentleness of possible hopes, in poetry Bardhyl Maliqija is seeking for survival. Absolute freedom does not exist, but, knowing exactly that, there is nothing else for him left but to do just that. Endless commitment to fight freedom-oriented, like a bird which seeks salvation in flight. However, the fall is a flight also in while continuously , like a phoenix, he is rising oriented towards the sun. Of Hope. And faith.. Editor's word Sabahudin Hadzialic Editor in chief 21.12.2011. |
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THE ANXIETY OF STATUES
A poema Butrint, An ancient amphitheatre with new tragedies, filled with bloody sorrows, inherited by the flounders, anxieties and silences. I touch your stones and the earth shivers, I touch the mosaics and dawns awake, I touch your bleachers and sunsets groan. Butrint, your statues migrate across Europe, and through my fingers the storms ride, the night becomes just the day for “Charter” aircrafts to return again the statues! The Zeus head doesn’t know what to think Doesn’t think where it is. It has many years gone, may be at Athens, at Rome, at Istanbul, London or New York, there where the art of marble heads or heads put in the basket have their value! That point out… The Ali Pasha’s head and Zeus head. Ah, the statues, heroes and the heavens, the Gods with our human faces, filled with charms and madness, with wars and loves all those covered under dusts and molds of forgetful, and silenced a long time in the clay of not return’s, dragged across the centuries with effort and laziness and asked for help from depths, thither where the storms have plunged as to shut their mouth, as to bury their histories under ruins of thousands of years as to speak for Hellenic and Roman help Forgetting thousands of prehistoric years Of ogre walls of Pellazgs, our great-grandfathers, of the Albanians! Butrint, my Epirus pride, you, metropolis of the Kaon tribe of Prasajbs you, hospitable land for Enea and the muse inspiration for new Eneiada, but, where are the ancient inhabitants of the city? Why the archeologists show us only invaders stories, and bothersome speakers say tales filled with the same lies? Thanks you Kont Ugolin and you humanitarian Lord, and you gentlemen that come from UNESKO but where are buried the ancient writing-stones? Or do you want to say that here there were never native inhabitants? But only Greeks, Romans and Venetians, and even Huns?! The Crest upon there at Konispol, our precocity witness twenty seven thousands years old that speaks with data that speaks with facts… But there will come a day for the graves of the graven marbles to open, and the statues to wake up to clean to get away the gray anxiety of waiting and grayish pelerine of mud, to run in muse. “We are late – they say, But so fragmented we have what to say our modern visitors, so, you can put and our account!” I follow by summer’s nights under stars lamps the ancient tragedies with new actors, into tens languages. They transmit human emotions in ether, and strong monologues of Prometheus, and nightmarish dialogues of Antigone, and the truth apology of Socrates, through the wind it rolls in. Roll in at area around us and it enters in our soul, Butrint awakes every night and departs new spectators. Meanwhile, spectators immured into statues tell us for past biblical events, for the people that are sitted to bleachers since the antiquity ages. Their ghosts seem to run out of night, they watch us behind the trees, and whisper us to our ears the ancient nightmare: Live up your life, because you before eternity, you live only a moment. Heigh, people, make your moment nice, without tragic phobias that is put to your blood by the bastard politicians and heartless militaries! Look out the Lion Gate, Baptistry, Basilika, Bride well, Mosaics, Ancient chapel, a little away stays the place of baptism and public thermal bathrooms… A little away is the pagan hill of Saint Delia where Martas and Mrikas prepare artistic gifts and gymnasia girls young speaker girls follow numerous visitors under green curls of the trees of a giant wood. Astonished tourists open their eyes Aand dream for statues rampancy in February’s rains or July’s heat. Tonight, from summer sun the amphitheatre’s stones yet are warm, as they want to soften a little the cold effects of the screen’s tragedies. Shush….! It is the voice of Evgjenia in Aulide, Briseida’s voice or Andromaca’s or Elena’s. “For what Irene are you speaking? an inner voice tells me.” Helens and Irenes are interweaving my images Eh, how sag my dates those blond haired! I cheer the last act. How many people I like with blood and bones Through the centuries have cheered, chieftains, archonds and soldiers With war dressings and lances and helmets, coming to hold their breath hanging on the stones of these footsteps. A nicer catharsis have not, for their traumatized souls in anxieties. I see the screens of old tragedies and me seem that the dates be repeated, under the cataclysm ruins do not stay the old dates, but new anguishes: and in vine’s drain, of the water and of the milk, in the old tubes snore the wounds of the new dates, these fly around crust, and get blood! On the misunderstood Dea’s head the scholars put the Apollo crown, and Dea gets sad and her name baptizes the storms and hotels along the sea-line of Joni. Certainly, we erect the marble statues that from years have filled Butrint changing it every night into a white and blinding lights mosaic for the unfortunate human smile. Every time that I open my eyes these lights are present to the night that beside the love you think not for a thing And these remember you that every trust is an illusion, convincing you that every hope be of no value besides the war reality, the anxiety and departure and this mosaic that changes faster then the moon this colored mosaic that fade and display under displaced sand by the passersby steps. Certainly the statues get disgust by our small human intrigues (You Butrint’s inhabitant, do not see out, that is worse than the war because the war kills only when you are miserable! So cries once to the podium the ancient mayor) Hundreds of lovers along nights of years that believed that just to close the eyes the amphitheatre of the statues of Butrint will disappear and together with it will forgive all the earth’s pains and I closed my eyes knowing the world and so I covet the spread crest horse’s running, horses with spurs, with blinkers and hobnails or the streets where perfume of the bloomed jasmines replace the light of the nice human pain. But it is the lovers on beaches, so fortunately the light not turned off or at least no nor in that hope city and disillusion and marble Goddess, and careless women tourists like gymnasium girls, the nice teenage girls with disturbed brain get together to the bus windows to see towards the sea They get late to the entrance may be have no money for the regular show, but the money are not needed for them it is enough their facial beauty like entry ticket They ought to be tonight present in that show because that show exceeds the screen and that is why when I meet old anxiety young spectators on street and I jiggle puzzled, or really suspect: If their eyes from the forehead to the ground fall? Or sew like buttons on young divinities face?! Certainly every night the mosaic of Butrint shines for us (Do it call really Butrint, that madmen amphitheater, that rolls in the air with ACC against the mosquitoes?!) 60 years have passed from the Hurshov’s visit, 60 years have passed from snakes poison but these clematises on the tree are like their lively image. Why remind me perhaps the snakes, snakes, Hurshov and Laokont? Maybe because regular show is “Trojan women” Or maybe “Andromaca”, unlucky widow of Hector, that here indeed lived the anxiety of a tragic passion when the son of her husband’s killer, Achilles, Pirro, drowned into the poison of a luckless love. drowned and the three thousand years old spectator varied in an indelible image of nostalgic memory. At the moment I wavered and when after the cataclysm and the renascence of the world I opened my eyes suddenly the Butrint amphitheater lay on the other side. It has changed its seat as the moon and I immensely astonished and will see you on your eyes but your eyes I never find and so I start to ask for the sea like Odysseus at the eternal search of my Itaka. Ah, Butrint parkland, so much famous as these antic buildings, so much seduced for the tourists eyes as those giant walls, as this two-way flow of the freshwaters and brines that one inside the other interpose like the depth’s beauties with surface! Ancient Butrint! Clasped by corpse claws, you stay silenced under cupola of sky, the dew slips and garbles through labyrinths of thousand years bodies, broken statues, cutting statues leaved in silence, as in hour-hands that oxidize. They enter loudly, and go out from you the sights that share two worlds…, the sights wrote on paper, compressed in stoning memory A voice booms away from the depths, and there rattles into “brides well” …, It resounds among the olive’s boles under the leaves lap, the white peace and from the branches filled with tear’s crystals involved by the longing to the throat! Rocky footsteps putted in rows, loading with thoughts steps! Anxiety remained in the dismay of solidity beyond the no waved sea! Leaving statues, tired under shadows by remained years…, And how much?! The statue had not age, that tall body antiquity not bends and not does gray, that is why their anxiety remain on my white letters! Translated into English: Kujtim AGALLIU 
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BIRDS EMPIRE
Missy, Last time you asked me for the birds For their childish chirping For the joy blooming on our faces Beholding them flock-flocking Trespassing the celestial spaces My heart, Birds have their own empire Their empire of air and light Their empire without boundaries Without throne and hierarchy despotism For the birds, my Goddess are beings free Like angels with wings Flying in paradise skies, To new horizons There, where the Sun is baptized every morning There, where new Moons get baptized. Yea, light of my eyes Birds have a more ancient existence than ours Therefore we are jealous for their height For their screams, dancing and their celestial joy, That`s why we embroider fairytales of flying carpets With myths of Dedalus and Icarius And surely, legends of girls transformed into cuckoos Never cease we dreaming of their flight Thus, planes, charters, and cosmic rockets build Oh, my lassie You have heard the songs of the birds When, in the fever of creation, with their chirping Compose unsung melodies And compose endless recitals, ’Where our Mozarts and Chopens stand, Where to our ancient poets could be, When the birds write in their pre Arcadian alphabet The epic of the imperial bird of Sun And coral lyrics in papyrus of feathery clouds?!. Oh, my goody, Birds have millions of years With their beaks carving Their pagan codices. You asked me for the Bible of the birds Their religion and their Koran Mecca Hadji, I believe, every year the birds are baptized When they pilgrim in warm countries Trustful to nature, liberty adorers are the birds Sons of the Sun they are, That more than anything the cages hate. I`ve told you my sweetheart The birds have the privilege of handsome beings To thy childish beauties only compared As for the variety of forms, arched flying, voices and colors They are their ID-is their biometrical passports, Though, they need not visas or customs For Lords of the sky they the only are, O, Their mythic empire Aha, there came the day we join in The celestial Empire of birds! The day has come… LIKE ISLES SORROW SET APART Like isles sorrow set apart, From the earthy body Greece Such is my pain for you Eli my solitude how can I subdue. The Greek I like just for you You are Greece for me Oh my Eli, my sweet angel Like a bird you swing in my chesty It`s not the shriek of the wind that runs But my voice reaching thee Waves of pain in furious sea Space anxiety along the rainy It`s my broken heart Tear of the soul crushed Like a bird I hold in hands It`s my regret, Eli for thee!. THE MIRRORS The mirrors are capricious girls, Naïve, nasty and timely nervous. In the bright, delicate thin skin, The soul...in traps of ilusions caught. The mirrors are like females: always liars, In deceitful forms, convex, concave. And should you like to know all the truth Throughout your life in their eyes yourself look. In intimate moments, beauteous, not real, Pleasant, true, as they are they are appear , With all weaknesses and human virtues. Females ! Oh females, Capricious mirrors!...... Translated into English: Mihal DHIMA 
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Copyright © 2014 DIOGEN pro culture magazine & Sabahudin Hadžialić
Design: Sabi / Autors & Sabahudin Hadžialić. Design LOGO - Stevo Basara.
Freelance gl. i odg. urednik od / Freelance Editor in chief as of 2009: Sabahudin Hadžialić
All Rights Reserved. Publisher online and owner: Sabahudin Hadžialić
WWW: http://sabihadzi.weebly.com
Contact Editorial board E-mail: [email protected];
Narudžbe/Order: [email protected]
Pošta/Mail: Freelance Editor in chief Sabahudin Hadžialić,
Grbavička 32, 71000 Sarajevo i/ili
Dr. Wagner 18/II, 70230 Bugojno, Bosna i Hercegovina
Design: Sabi / Autors & Sabahudin Hadžialić. Design LOGO - Stevo Basara.
Freelance gl. i odg. urednik od / Freelance Editor in chief as of 2009: Sabahudin Hadžialić
All Rights Reserved. Publisher online and owner: Sabahudin Hadžialić
WWW: http://sabihadzi.weebly.com
Contact Editorial board E-mail: [email protected];
Narudžbe/Order: [email protected]
Pošta/Mail: Freelance Editor in chief Sabahudin Hadžialić,
Grbavička 32, 71000 Sarajevo i/ili
Dr. Wagner 18/II, 70230 Bugojno, Bosna i Hercegovina
