Klosi: Dea Klosi


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Dea Klosi on 26 December, 2012 20:03:00
 
In this there is no measuring with time, a year doesn’t matter, and ten years
are nothing. Being an artist means: not numbering and counting, but ripening
like a tree, which doesn’t force its sap, and stands confidently in the storms
of spring, not afraid that afterward summer may not come. It does come.

Falling Stars
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Dea Klosi on 23 December, 2012 18:53:00
 
Do you remember still the falling stars  that like swift horses through the
heavens raced  and suddenly leaped across the hurdles  of our wishes—do you
recall?

A Dream for Winter
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Dea Klosi on 10 December, 2012 19:26:00
 
In the winter, we shall travel in a little pink railway carriage  With blue
cushions.  We shall be comfortable. A nest of mad kisses lies in wait  In each
soft corner.

Storytellers
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Dea Klosi on 10 December, 2012 16:08:00
 
For a writer, the best way to speak is by writing. You will find everything I
need to say in my works. Speech is carried off by the wind; the written word can
never be obliterated. I would like you to find the patience to read my books. I
cannot force you to do that, and even if you do, I do not expect your opinion of
me to change. No writer has yet appeared, anywhere in the world, who is liked by
all his readers; that is especially true during times like these.

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Dea Klosi on 03 December, 2012 10:12:00
 
Përse e ruajmë ne kujtimin aq të kthjellët, aq të shtrenjtë, aq të
mprehtë të ca minutave dashurie me Tokën, kujtimin e një ndijimi të
mrekullueshëm dhe të shpejtë, si një përkëdhelje të një peizazhi të
hasur në kthesën e një rruge, në hyrje të një lugine, buzë një lumi,
ashtu siç do të takonim një vajzë të bukur dhe dashamirëse.