Ahmet Selmani
Ahmet Selmani was born on 7 March in Skopje. He completed his primary and secondary education in his hometown, while he studied for his degree in literature at the University of Prishtina, were he also continue with his post-graduate studies.
He began to involve himself with creative writing since his time at school by publishing in the children’s magazines “Fatosi” and “Gëzimi”, and later in the newspaper “Flaka” and in the magazine “Jehona”. Later his work in the fields of literature, and literary critique, as well as his studies in literature, were published in the entire Albanian sphere as well as outside the country.
He worked for a long time as a culture journalist in the daily “Flaka”, and then later as culture editor, publications editor, commentator, and Editor in Chief of the same newspaper.
Until present Selmani has published the following books among others: “Poezia dhe individualiteti” (Poetry and Individuality) (1996), “Tregu i djallëzisë” (The Market of Devilry) (1998), “Diskurs kritik” (Critique Discourse) (2004), “Mur i gjallë” (Living Wall) (2005).
Apart from creative writing, he also is involved with translation. To date he has published: Drago Shtambuk: “Gishti i perëndisë” (God’s finger) (From Croatian to Albanian), Rifat Kukaj: “Dreri me një bri” (The Deer with one Antler) (from Albanian to Macedonian), Sali Bashota: “Nëse bëhem engjëll” (If I become an Angel)(From Albanian to Macedonian), “Si të komunikoni me mediat” (How to communicate with the media) (leaflet for journalists) (From Macedonian to Albanian)
Ahmet Selmani takes part in symposiums, conferences and scientific debates.
Foreign Season
(or the sleep of self-death)
Why do you tell me to live
This is not my season
Can you not see how foreign I look
I look small even compared to a fly
I was born for other seasons
So I will hibernate like the bear
To prolong the time living-dead
Until my time of happiness arrives
Then I can wake slowly
And I can begin to live
Head up.
Black Angels
(or the time of death)
My mouth dried
While spitting at the black angels
I will chase them like a one legged devil
I will kill them with the poison of my pain
How I miss being a killer
I know they will then point their finger
Oh how wonderful when they will say:
Look how proudly he walks,
Killer of the black angels
