Agron Shele was born in October 7th, 1972, in the Village of Leskaj, city of Permet, Albania. Is the author of the following literary works: “The Steps of Clara” (Novel), “Beyond a grey curtain” (Novel), “Wrong Image” (Novel) , “Innocent Passage” (Poetry), Whiste stones ( poetry) RIME SPARSE -Il suono di due voci poetiche del Mediterraneo (Poesie di Agron Shele e Claudia Piccinno), La mia Musa (“Libri di-versi in diversi libri” – Italy, 2020); murmure d’ un autre monde (poetry), “Ese-I and Ese-II) ” . Mr. Shele is also the coordinator of International Anthologies: “Open Lane- 1,” “Pegasiada , Open Lane- 2 , ATUNIS magazine ( Nr 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 )” and Atunis Galaxy Antholgy 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021, 2022, 2023. He is winner of some international literary prizes. Is a member of the Albanian Association of Writers, member of the World Writers Association, in Ohio, United States, Poetas del Mundo, WPS, Unione world Poetry and the President of the International Poetical Galaxy “Atunis”. He is published in many newspapers, national and international magazines, as well as published in many global anthologies: Almanac 2008, 2017; World Poetry Yearbook 2009, 2013, 2015, The Second Genesis -2013, Kibatek 2015-Italy, Metafora (Poland), Keleno- Greece, etc. Currently Resides in Belgium and continues to dedicate his time and efforts in publishing literary works with universal values.



My favorite café is near the Cathedral
There I listen to the church bells ringing
and the sights of the past
Hustling people do not have time to count psalms
They simply take visual photos,
Carrying with them, memories of a legend they don’t know
Never learning anything about soulful prayers

Again and again I sit there
The same plaza with thousands of sculptures
With Legionnaires donning medieval cloak
Effigies that evaporate in the coffee steam.

Maybe it is the accumulated despair
Of the generation’s sacrifice and the whip of punishment
But all have that relentless gaze
The same way as the apostles,
who were born and passed away.

My coffee is very simple
A table and two chairs
In one of them sits my absence
A gaze that absorbs the heavens is seated in the other
And like this, in our worldwide travel
Maybe coming from the monastic past
A forest of people gathered around “the cross of fate
And a time of murmurs that fills in“ the cathedral.


I am coming tomorrow, certainly…!
As soon as sunset will show at the skyline
And the first twilight reaches for the city, arm wide
When the sun makes way for the stars
And we start talking about another world
The one where sky and earth are kissing
And the belches savour a sea.

I am coming tomorrow, certainly… !
Like I used to come, to the meadows where spring was greening
No tears anymore, meddling with the autumn rains together
Because they dissolve me … and carry me away like the leaves.

I am coming tomorrow, certainly…!


In my secrecies
Everything flows like a tumultuous river
Downpour of autumn rains
Sliding and crushing
And then a white wave
That resembles the rippling of a divine beauty
The muse’s nickering with curls flying to wind
Wet from the tears of clouds
And ripped, sky on the yellow carpet of the season.

In my secrecies
In everyday chaos the curtains of the soul are raised
The turbid waters dance
Like a belch disturbing the silent scenery
In the last instance of purity
Arrives to wake up the moment of solitude
And gone, to the shores without mercy.

In my secrecies there is a world
There is a color too
The color of the sunset behind the skylines
The color of birds forgotten in migration..