Lisiana Demiraj

Lisiana DemirajLisiana Demiraj (born in Pogradec on 06.11.1987) has studied General Medicine and lives in Tirana.She is the author of the book Xanax (Tirana, 2008). She has also published writings in poetry and prose in literary magazines MM (Prishtina, 2010), Poeteka (Tirana, 2013), Milosao (Tirana, 2015). Several of her works are part of the Anthology of the Newest Albanian Literature, published in Croatian language (Zagreb, 2014).

Lisiana Demiraj has participated in various literary events, among which Poeteka International Festival of Literature (Tirana, 2012 and 2013 editions), the Festival of Young Poetesses (Azerbaijan, 2014), Milas – Video-Poetry Competition, winner, (Danmark, 2014), Polip – Literature Festival (Pristina, 2014) and Review of Small Literatures Festival, (Zagreb, 2014). She is the winner of a two month Writer-in-Residence Fellowship in Vaduz (Liechtenstein, Nov-Dec 2015).

XANAX

Title: Xanax

Place of Publication: Tirana

Year of Publication: 2008

Publisher: Dita2000

Genre: Poetry, Drama

ISBN: 978-99943-57-41-3

© all rights reserved to the author : lisianad@hotmail.com

 

The plot: Xanax is the trade name for benzodiazepine Alprazolam (purposely chosen instead of its chemical name), a medicine prescribed for panic and anxiety disorders. This book is written in the form of a dialogue between two persons, one of whom on 21 occasions answers with a poetry, instead of a short sentence. The story is about somebody who both luckily and unfortunately has the possibility to have a place to stand and to be heard during a paid hour that costs him more than money, but less than morality. When the discussion comes to an end, the needy one is the other character who also expresses his worries through poetry, his first and only, but the last one of the book. This way the idea of pain and worries, from which nobody is immune, is presented.

 

Reviews:

In 2010, Kosovan author Arben Idrizi writes about the theme of pain of this book, publishing the article “Why Pain?” in the MM magazine, in Pristina.

 

(Fragment 1)

 

P- Is death a repose?

2227- There are questions I don’t ask.

P- Fear of dissapointment?

2227- It’s not the right moment.

P- What is your relationiship with the moment?

2227- Better than that of time.

P- Can you return the moment?

2227- I do not own time.

P- Time is your refrain?

2227- It’s a point of reference.

P- Where is the difference?

2227- I do not sing to time only.

P- Another inspiration out there?

2227- A weakness.

P- Lack of control?

2227- Lack of knowledge.

P- A song for whom?

2227–    A song for the night

 

When night comes…

…………………………………………………………

 

When night laughs,

I don’t know if it’s making fun of, or having fun.

I know nothing anymore.

I am not lying you,

No, I know nothing anymore.

 

When night laughs

I cannot lie:

I am affraid of what comes after.

It is like night.

I am not lying,

It’s like night.

 

I do not know if it’s true what comes after

I know nothing anymore

Nothing, no, when night laughs.

…………………………………………………………

 

When night cries,

I am affraid I might drown in its tears.

 

When night cries,

I am affraid I might drown in its tears

And lose myself completely.

 

When night cries,

I am affraid of what comes after.

She is like night,

I am not lying,

She’s like night.

 

I feel that I do not know

I’m feeling fear only

Fear, yes, when night cries.

…………………………………………………………

 

When night hushes

I know she wants me to understand her.

(I took the faceless and

Locked her in my madhouse.)

 

When night hushes,

I mesmerize her

And want to understand her.

 

When night hushes

I fear what I’m going to uncover

She is like night

I am not lying you, because I don’t know

How cold, yes, when night hushes.

…………………………………………………………

 

I lit a candle

To the light’s coffin

And oppened its cover

I took its skull,

and sincerely respected it.

 

I lit a candle to myself

To pour some light on the page

 

I lit a candle

In honor of vanity

 

I did not have a forth one.

…………………………………………………………

 

When night comes…

 

P- What happens when night comes?

 

2227- I need a psychiatrist to clarify my thoughts.

 

 

(Fragment 2)

 

 

P- Tell me about thought.

 

2227- Maybe another other time.

 

P- How long will take to the other time?

 

2227- Long as then.

 

P- What is then?

 

2227- It is sometime.

 

P- A memory?

 

2227- A deformed relic.

 

P- Placed without care?

 

2227- Thrown away with care.

 

P- And then?

 

2227- What then?

 

P- What about today?

 

2227- Today things are different.

 

P- How different?

 

2227- They flow smoothly.

 

P- Toward what?

 

2227- Toward the end.

 

 

(Fragment 3)

 

P- There is sadness?

 

2227- There is worse.

 

P- Worse how?

 

2227- When you get used to it.

 

P- And then?

 

2227- You want to name everything.

 

P- Do you find names?

 

2227- Maybe yes, maybe no.

 

P-  Do not change your mind.

 

2227- I am not the only one.

 

P- Why ?

 

2227-          *   *   *

 

He changed,

 

as the river’s flow,

to make us feel tired.

he rushed,

with the speed of clouds,

to scatter us.

We forgot ourselves.

We remembered ourselves.

We waited the snow.

We froze that bit of life, remained.

The extract is translated  from the Albanian by Erion Kumuria