Puntorie Zyba Muça
The writer Puntorie Ziba is considered one of the first pioneers involved in the feminist movement of female authors, with notions of individuality of creative literary-identity that have classified her in Albanian papers. "Strict, sincere to phenomena, to ugliness, to freedom, and to bondage to love and hatred, with my fine intelligence was dispersed in my letters, highlighting the dilemmas of the discriminatory position of the Albanians that the usurper's eyes saw us as power in the Balkans, about the discriminatory position of Albanian women in Northern Macedonia, about female victimization and the consequences of bigotry, primitivism, always adding to the references left by the Kanun, which even today can hardly be removed by some capricious mind. Creativity as a fragile and not at all easy craft can be more subtly cultivated by a mind and a hand, or a fragile female heart that looks at phenomena, also with fragile eyes without expressing anger at solving problems through rifle barrels, swords, or knives…
Utopia 07
Let me draw your face
On my warm cheek
With purple silky skin.
Let me draft:
Eyebrow verses
meadow coloured yes
horizon lips
a chin of forest with snow
and a dove’s heart
’cos I will put them in a frame
lung coloured
and I will hang them in the wall
snow white
over the overcast bed
where i sleep alone
winter, summer.
Oh when i was once young
How much I idolised A Chain of Pearls
And the singer who sang it.
That world,
I would submit to the traveller
In the train
The bus
The plane,
And I would ask
Slowly and politely
Where they were going
And why they are travelling,
Are they scared of accidents
How many children do they have
What have they studied
What language is their language,
In what language
Is love sanctified,
Why is my language so good...
I was once young
finicky,
How I loved:
The roads, the gardens, the bushes, the flowers,
The chimneys of houses
Where people lived.
Oh when I was once young
I would mourn with the mourners
that would weep for the killed refugee
the injured veteran,
and I would hate
death.
When I was young
I would sing in weddings
Together with the paid orchestra,
I would not stop dancing
Until the groom ended the night
In the room where two days earlier we kept
The bride’s dowry.
Oh when I was once young
My concern was:
food, air, water and fire,
because my mum made me finicky.
