Don’t believe in galaxies anymore – Remember being human

Short essay about Lulzim Tafa book “On sunday do not call me”

I find myself reading the work of Lulzim Tafa and discovering his great talent in these very sad days when Europe is devastated by the Russia-Ukraine war and I am struck by his far-sighted verses about Peace and war. Lulzim Tafa, who lives in Pristina and has always lived in Kosovo, is well aware of the war, he also founded a university and is fighting for the rights of humans and animals. In fact he is a jurist, a professor in the field of criminology studies in several universities, currently he is the rector of the AAB university, the largest private university in Kosovo. I am literally fascinated by the peculiar, innovative and unprecedented style of this collection which is titled On sunday do not call me, the poet opens the collection with poems dedicated to love: love for creation, love for the earth, love for a partner. In some verses there are pleasant and delicate erotic references that denote the passion of man, but there are also many compositions with allusion to death in the usual minuet between Eros and Thanatos. There are lyrics from which we can deduce the difficulties of the countries at war and the continuous wondering  by Lulzim about the precariousness of existence and wrong habits resulting from hatred and intolerance. The words that often recur in his compositions are fire and Hell as to signify the painful dimension of earthlings, on the other hand there are also terms such as dreams, heaven, paradise, there is a constant allusion to dreams, to the purity of heaven. , to heroes and gods. His metaphysical investigation is evident from verses such as Don’t believe in galaxies anymore or as Talking to the Sky on page 14 and on the other hand the subsequent poem Conversation with wood refers to the fear of fire and the fear of burning of the one who lives in conditions perhaps of clandestinity on this Earth. In other poems there are many references to the pandemic phase that we have been going through all over the world for the last three years, the poem The edge of madness There are days / When it seems to me that / I hear / Knocking in the wind and / Some is beautiful. rattling steps In Heaven./Maybe/We might even go crazy / From this Scream of souls / Gods.

Lively voices that / From heaven / They feel./Previously I believe / That I am on the verge of madness / Then I think I’m creative / To this extent / I think that / Someone broke me / The password of the dream.

In the poem After the pandemic the poet questions himself about interpersonal distance and wonders if it will remain only a physical fact or if it will become something abysmal at the level of soul and sociability; in the following poem Pessimism there is a point where he refers to the psychiatric difficulties that could arise from these three years of restrictions and isolation: Great job the air./While after a bit / We will need Psychiatry./Do not add beds there / Add the chains.

 Moving is the poem dedicated to his father which refers to a ministerial decree in which people over 65 were prohibited from going out in a phase of high contagion, there is a beautiful protest poem dedicated to George Floyd in which discrimination and intolerance are recalled ends with a not at all veiled judgment: Only the policeman is white / But no / Even his soul. This poem is just one of the cycle of poems on Adam and Eve which shows a constant investigation of the relationships between man and woman and their evolution in terms of understanding and complementarity. However, the poems that struck me most are those dedicated to the conflict he experienced as a citizen of Kosovo, starting with the poem Export on page 59 which seems almost an epigram, at one point he says: therefore we have no exports / If you want / We can sell you patriotism and Epic bravery / as much as you want ..

This is a reminder of patriotism and one’s roots, despite poverty. The poem The Forth world war is singular and ends with an intense irony. Probably / War will come again./ Bravery again / there should have been / there will be bloodshed / like a river / once again from the beginning / everything will start / oh my God but who can endure anymore / all of these heroes. The poem dedicated to poets is also singular: When the gods get angry / Poets are born./At the first sign of life / They rise up against their master./They protest./When they grow up / They become mischievous./They distribute posters / Against themselves / Like demonstrators in the city./”Every mother’s surplus child / becomes a poet.

 It is therefore evident that for him too poetry is a form of resistance, a form of testimony and protest and this can only honor him in my eyes, therefore I appreciate and carry his warning remember being human / After such temptation.

Finally, I thank Jeton Kelmedi for introducing me to this author in the English translation because otherwise I would not have been able to taste his verses.


My head cut off

They handed it to me

And they said


My intestines swelled

And with them

My legs were tied

And they said


I filled my mouth

With blood

Limbs pockets

Of mine and



I want to talk to you

Something to believe


Do you ever feel?

Does the sun bake you?

Do you miss it?

Who froze you

So that no fire anymore

Can ever

melt you?

*Claudia Piccinno, scrittrice

Claudia Piccinno