bergina leka photography Archives

Aug

Il Girasole – Sunflower

Eri tu il mio sole,
Amavo girare attorno a te.

Tra tutti i colori ho scelto il tuo,
E come te ho provato a radiare.

Sono ancora un po’ come te,
Ma ho smesso di rincorrerti.

Anche se simile al tuo,
Il mio colore ha un altra luce.

Ora mi dondolo col vento.
Le sue carezze mi sfiorano meglio.

You were my sun,
I loved to spin around you.

Among all the colors I chose yours,
And like you I tried to radiate.

I’m still a little like you,
But I stopped chasing you.

Even if similar to yours,
My color has another light.

Now I swing with the wind.
Its caresses touch me better.

Jun

Piccole cose – Little things

Queste piccolezze, che ai miei occhi sembravano il mondo,
si sono lentamente seccate.
Queste piccolezze che mi riscaldavano il cuore,
sono lentamente cadute.

Vagheranno ancora per poco
Trasformandomi in un ricordo di quel che ho voluto essere,
Ora sono un tronco,
pronto ad essere riciclato.

These little things, which to my eyes seemed like the world,
they slowly dried out.
These little things that warmed my heart,
they slowly fell.

They will wander for a while longer
Turning me into a memory of what I wanted to be,
Now I’m a trunk,
ready to be recycled.

Feb

Il posto che chiamiamo casa non è il posto dove viviamo, ma dove sono conservate e prosperano le nostre radici. Magari in un posto lontano, magari in un rumore, magari in un odore… e magari sono intrecciate e unite per sempre in un intenso abbraccio con un altro cuore…

The place we call home it’s not where we live, but where our roots are preserved and thrive. Maybe in a distant place, maybe in a noise, maybe in a smell … and maybe they are intertwined and united forever in an intense embrace with another heart …

Dec

Ombre…

Siamo come le ombre…
È solo grazie al sole che siamo visibili.
Cambiamo forma perché il sole brilla indisturbato dalle nuvole.
E io provo ad essere il tuo sole… Ma Tu sei molto grande e io molto piccola…
Io da sola non ci riesco a far risaltare la tua ombra.

Jun

Never give up

Before having Isabelle it was “easy” taking pictures. Anytime I felt like it was a good day going out there and search for something special, I could do it. In my bag there was always my flash, 2 other lenses and obviously my Canon. Very often I would take my tripod too, mostly to experiment with long exposure.
Well, Isabelle came and I had to reduce my gear. So the first to be kicked out was my tripod. Luckily Isabelle was growing healthy and that means she was gaining a lot of weight. In no time she was double her size at birth, so I had to lighten my bag and soon enough the only thing I could take with me was just my camera with a 17-70mm lens.
Well I thought, what else could happen to make my job “more difficult”. I was wrong. Isabelle, very often wants to be carried and my camera seems a funny toy to her. So I started to stop and photograph something only when I was 200% sure it was worth it.
During our trip in Albania I was more busy translating conversations between my parents and my husband, who by the way after 4 years of marriage can barely say How are you in albanian so the time to take pictures was drastically reduced.
Two days before our return in UK I could finally meet with my best friend, who lives more than 2 hours away by car. On our way there we found a lot of traffic and we got stuck for another hour. Everybody was hungry. It was almost 3pm. Isabelle was super bored in her car seat and tried all types of cries to make us free her.
It was an absolute nightmare. We started to sing and to play with her, but no way, all she wanted was to get off and run.
Finally we arrived in Fier and our meeting point was my friend’s working place.
I was rushing to meet with her and I was holding Isabelle in my arms. My husband was waiting downstairs for us.
Even though I was tired and I knew I had no time, I couldn’t not notice this staircase and I absolutely loved it and I really wanted to photograph it. I tried my best to hold Isabelle with one hand and the camera on the other one. I took only these two shots and that’s it.
Back home I finally could edit both those and was very happy with the outcome.
I submitted the vertical one to Vogue Italy and they published it. When I saw it published, it really made me happy and it reminded me that if you really want to achieve something there is nothing to stop you, but you. Never give up on your passions !

Check you Vogue Portfolio .

Nov

And then I became his wife (the story of a project)

It was like a chapter of my life was going to end. It was like, I was living the last hours of who I was. I had to climb the bridge and there was no turning back. Although I was sure that I really loved him, I was scared. In a few hours I was going to promise to him that I will love and respect him forever…. and that was the word that scared me most: FOREVER. I was leaving everything behind and I was going to become somebody’s wife. What happens if I don’t feel free anymore? What happens if I stop loving him? What happens if we change so much that we even recognise our self?
That was my last night like a single lady. I woke up and the sun was kissing the last drops of the rain of yesterday night and was smiling to me. Far way from home I was bounding my life with that of another man. I wish my mother had seen me that morning and had said to me that I was the most beautiful bride of all the world. I was just about to run away … I wasn’t ready. But then I saw him and I remembered how much I loved him. I remembered all our laughs, how I feel protected on his arms. I was scared, oh God knows how much I was scared… but finally I was ready to start this new adventure. I thought, what happens if I don’t have him on my side for the rest of my life? I kissed him and then I became his wife.
Devastated

Sad bride

This is my territory

I don't want to be here

Bride kissed by the sun

In the ice

Trying to relax

Bride and the Sun

Selected and published as story of the week by JPG Magazine

Jun

Mall

Ismail Kadare (b. 1936) is at present the only Albanian writer to enjoy a broad international reputation. His talents both as a poet and as a prose writer have lost none of their innovative force over the last three decades.
At the end of October 1990, a mere two months before the final collapse of the dictatorship, Ismail Kadare left Tirana and applied for political asylum in France, a move which, for the first time, gave him an opportunity to exercise his profession with complete freedom.

To read the german or the french version of this poesy, please follow the link
Sehnsucht – Ismail Kadare’
Absence – Ismail Kadare’

Ca pika shiu ranë mbi qelq.
Për ty unë befas ndjeva mall.
Jetojmë të dy në një qytet,
Dhe rrallë shihemi, sa rrallë.

Edhe m’u duk pak e çuditshme
Si erdh kjo vjeshtë, ky mëngjes.
Qiejt e ngrysur pa lejlekë
Dhe shirat pa ylberë në mes.

Dhe thënia e vjetër e Heraklitit
Seç m’u kujtua sot për dreq :
« Të zgjuarit janë bashkë në botë,
Kurse të fjeturit janë veç ».

Në ç’ëndërr kemi rënë kaq keq,
Që dot s’po zgjohemi ne vallë ?…
Ca pika shiu ranë mbi qelq
Dhe unë për ty seç ndjeva mall.

1976 – Ismail Kadare’

Jun

Fjalet e qiririt

This beautiful poem is written by Naim Frasheri, one of the most important writers of the 20th century in Albania. To read the english version of “Word of the candle”, follow the link www.albanianliterature.net
The poem is translated by Robert Elsie

Në mes tuaj kam qëndruar
E jam duke përvëluar,
Që t’u ap pakëzë dritë,
Natënë t’ua bënj ditë.

Do të tretem, të kullohem,
Të digjem, të përvëlohem,
Që t’u ndrinj mir’ e të shihni,
Njëri-tjatërin të njihni.

Për ju do të rri të tretem,
Asnjë çikë të mos mbetem,
Të digjem e të qanj me lot,
Se dëshirën s’e duronj dot.

Unë zjarrit nuk i druhem
Dhe kurrë s’dua të shuhem,
Po të digjem me dëshirë,
Sa të munt t’u ndrinj më mirë.

Kur më shihni se jam tretur,
Mos pandehni se kam vdekur;
jam i gjall’ e jam ndë jetë
jam në dritët të vërtetë,

Unë jam në shpirtin tuaj,
Mos më kini për të huaj,
M’është falurë durimi,
Andaj po digjem si trimi,

Se ma k’ënda t’u bënj mirë,
Të mos mbeti n’errësirë.
Jakëni rreth meje rrini,
Flisni, qeshni, hani, pini,

Në shpirt kam dashurinë,
Pa digjem për njerëzinë,
Lemëni të përvëlohem,
nukë dua më të ftohem,

Dua ta djek trupn’ e kretë
Për atë zotn’ e vërtetë.
Me zjarr ta djek mushkërinë
E të tretem për njerinë,

Bashkë me gëzimt të tija
të vete te perëndia.
Unë dua njerëzinë,
Mirësin’ e urtësinë.

Në bëhi shokë me mua,
Në më doni si u dua,
Njëri-tjetërin në doni,
Të paudhë mos punoni.

O zëmëra fluturake,
Qasju pakë kësaj flake!
Mase krahët t’i përvëlon,
Po dhe shpirtin ta shënjtëron.

Unë duke përvëluar,
Njerëzit i kam ndrituar.
Kam qënë mik me njerinë,
Andaj i di e më dinë.

Gjithë tuajt’ i kam parë,
Mëm’ e at’ e fis e farë,
Si tani gjithë i kam ndër mënt,
Që rrininë më këtë vënt.

Edhe sot nër ju ata shoh,
Se shpirtin e tyre ua njoh,
Dhe unë si ju jam ndruar
E jam përzjer’ e ndryshuar,

Pa jam bërë shumë herë
Zjar e uj’ e balt’ e erë.
Jam një shkëndijë pej qielli
dhe një drudhëzë pej dielli.

Edhe ndër qiej fluturonj,
Edhe brënda në det qëndronj,
Shumë herë fle në baltë,
Diku ndodhem dhe në mjaltë

Bënem qëngj e kec i pirë,
Lul’ e bar e gjeth i mbirë.
Dua shumë fjalë t’u them,
Po trëmbem mos i bënj ujem.
E ku shkruhenë në kartë
Fjalët’ e gjuhësë zjarrtë?

Naim Frasheri