{"id":9552,"date":"2022-02-25T20:33:45","date_gmt":"2022-02-25T20:33:45","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/revistakuvendi.org\/?p=9552"},"modified":"2022-02-25T20:33:45","modified_gmt":"2022-02-25T20:33:45","slug":"katjusha-pogaci-e-perkthyer-ne-gjuhen-angleze-nga-raimonda-moisiu","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/revistakuvendi.org\/?p=9552","title":{"rendered":"Katjusha Pogaci e p\u00ebrkthyer ne gjuh\u00ebn angleze nga Raimonda MOISIU"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n

Vargjet poetike te poetes Katjusha Pogaci t\u00eb p\u00ebrkthyera nw gjuh\u00ebn angleze nga Raimonda MOISIU <\/p>\n

The poetry of Katjusha Pogaci touches our heart! <\/p>\n

A great age of literature is perhaps always a great age of translation\u201d
\nEzra Pound
\nTranslating a poetry collection by the poetess, Katjusha Pogaci, it\u2019s an amazing experience. I tried to keep to traditional verse form because rhythm, musicality and pace are intrinsic to Katjusha’s poetry.
\nHer poetry is a poetry that looks into the heart of things, warmth, tenderness, understanding, kindness, love, affections and respect for the dignity in human personality. It strengthens our interest in human nature, elevates the drooping spirit, intensifies our aspiration toward the good and the beautiful in all that surrounds us, and tends to raise the level of our lives by helping us to see the essentials of life more clearly.
\nWritten by Raimonda MOISIU <\/p>\n

Why poets grieve through!<\/p>\n

The poets suffer and grieve through,
\n\u2018Cause they know the value,
\nTo the word they use!
\nThe poets are crushed by
\nThe weight of the word,
\nSome people use the words,
\nLike picking the tomatoes,
\nBut them (Poets) that\u2019s not! <\/p>\n

Inspired by the muses,
\nThe poets suffer and sweat,
\nPutting the words together,
\nIn such a way, be careful
\nHow you talk to the poets,
\nBecause words can hurt
\nThe Poet\u2019s Feelings! <\/p>\n

Friday June 1, 2012
\n(Published in the poetry book, \u201cA cup of sun\u201d) <\/p>\n

PSE VUAJN\u00cb POET\u00cbT – <\/p>\n

Poet\u00ebt vuajn\u00eb se vler\u00ebsojn\u00eb fjal\u00ebn,
\nP\u00ebr ta fjala ka pesh\u00eb tjet\u00ebr,
\nDisa i shesin fjal\u00ebt si domatet
\nPor jo poet\u00ebt. <\/p>\n

Ata vuajn\u00eb bashk\u00eb me fjal\u00ebn,
\nBashk\u00eb me t\u00eb djersiten,
\nPrandaj, kujdes kur flisni me poet\u00ebt
\nSe nga fjala vriten. <\/p>\n

BALKAN <\/p>\n

The Balkan, where we live in,
\nIt\u2019s you and it\u2019s me,
\nYes a noun, and a verb,
\nInto the roots, in the history,
\nHolding on together with ballads,
\nThrough the War and beyond the haze, <\/p>\n

Bal-Kan* (Forehead) <\/p>\n

The Balkans has,
\nSo proudly throughout the ages!<\/p>\n

Bal-Kan,
\nA thought storm in the mind,
\nThe hope in the air,
\nWith eyes like sparks,
\nPassion and romance,
\nSo amazing portrait,
\nSuffering and legends,
\nBut often holding a grudge,
\nLike a starving beast inside the chest! <\/p>\n

Only the rivers run,
\nAnd only they run free,
\nThey run over you,
\nThey run over me,
\nAs the torrential rains,
\nRunning far away,
\nWhite Drin, -The Goddess,
\nBlack Drin, – The Prince! <\/p>\n

Balkan, sheltered by mountains
\nBalkan, storms of troubles,
\nWoods and valley creeks,
\nPeople and borders,
\nNative tongues and quiet lakes,
\nThrough the fire and flames,
\nThe ground beneath roars,
\nAnd the earth\u2019s crust breaks! <\/p>\n

But one does arouse us,
\nWhile the other spies on\u2026 <\/p>\n

Balkan,
\nIt\u2019s not far beyond geography,
\nIt\u2019s a part of this world,
\n\u201cCause we’ve got a history,
\nWhere kinds of lute still being played,
\nAnd out where the waves crash on
\nWeird and tragic shores!<\/p>\n

High on the tragic mountains\u2026
\nThe clouds are angry,
\nThe winds are restless,
\nWhile the evil tongues yell in anger\u2026. <\/p>\n

But deep in the spirit,
\nYou hold onto your hope,
\nYour hope is big,
\nIt\u2019s a beautiful hope,
\nIn the mirror of the times,
\nThat holds all the treasures,
\nYou could see and then you\u2019d understand,
\nThat you\u2019re not afraid to lose them!<\/p>\n

Set them all in a single necklace,
\nAnd it\u2019s yours forever! <\/p>\n

Tuesday January 23, 2001 <\/p>\n

*The word Bal-kan, in which there are two words with different meaning in Albanian language and it comprises meaning, \u201cBall\u201d (Forehead), and the other word \u201ckan\u00eb\u201d, it comprises meaning, \u201cto have\u201d.<\/p>\n

Ballkan<\/p>\n

Ballkani ku ne jemi,
\nJam un\u00eb, je dhe ti
\nNj\u00eb em\u00ebr dhe nj\u00eb folje
\nN\u00eb rr\u00ebnj\u00eb, n\u00eb histori,
\nBashk\u00eb me baladat
\nLuft\u00eb edhe mjegull,
\nBall – kan\u00eb k\u00ebta popuj
\nT\u00eb r\u00ebnd\u00eb n\u00eb shekujt.<\/p>\n

Ball \u2013 kan\u00eb
\nE, n\u00eb ball\u00eb Mendimin stuhi,
\nShpres\u00ebn n\u00ebp\u00ebr er\u00eb
\nShk\u00ebndijat n\u00eb sy,
\nPasion dhe legjenda
\nPortretin e bukur,
\nPor shpesh rri m\u00ebria
\nThell\u00eb bish\u00eb e strukur. <\/p>\n

Ve\u00e7 lumenjt\u00eb ecin,
\nVrapojn\u00eb si veri
\nVijn\u00eb tek un\u00eb,
\nVijn\u00eb dhe te ti,
\nSi krushq t\u00eb rr\u00ebmbyer
\nVrapin n\u2019arrati
\nNuse Drini i Bardh\u00eb,
\nDh\u00ebnd\u00ebr Drini i Zi.
\nBallkan me kaq male,
\nBallkan me kaq halle,
\nPyje e lumenj,
\nPopuj e kufij,
\nGjuh\u00eb e liqenj
\nZjarr edhe shk\u00ebndi…
\nN\u00ebntoka flet,
\nMbitoka gj\u00ebmon
\nNj\u00ebra rizgjohet
\nE tjetra p\u00ebrgjon… <\/p>\n

S\u2019je ve\u00e7 gjeografi,
\nJe dhe ti nj\u00eb bot\u00eb,
\nKu bien lahuta
\nE p\u00ebrplasen dallg\u00eb,
\nBrigjeve tragjik\u00eb
\nMaleve tragjik\u00eb…
\nRet\u00eb kreshp\u00ebrohen
\nEr\u00ebrat ngat\u00ebrrohen
\nE gjuh\u00ebt k\u00eblthasin.<\/p>\n

Porse thell\u00eb n\u00eb shpirt
\nTi me shpres\u00ebn luan,
\nShpresa jote e madhe
\nBukuri e hajthme,
\nN\u00eb pasqyr\u00eb koh\u00ebsh
\nReflekton thesare
\nShikoi, kuptoi
\nDhe s\u2019ke p\u00ebr t\u2019i humbur. <\/p>\n

Bashkoi gjerdan
\nQ\u00eb t\u2019i kesh p\u00ebrfare\u2026 <\/p>\n

E mart\u00eb, 23 janar 2001 <\/p>\n

Let\u2019s make peace like a sky!<\/p>\n

Let\u2019s make peace like a sky
\nOn the wrinkled face of the dream
\nAnd believing that someday
\nThe peace will come,
\nAnd it will make us one!<\/p>\n

Peace will come, and together,
\nWe will get there!<\/p>\n

Maybe in another time,
\nWhen the fragrance of peace,
\nIt would seem far behind us,
\nLike a slice of toasted white bread,
\nAfter feeling hungry and tired,
\nLike seeking for clear water in a desert,
\nLike a blazing fire in this bitter world,
\nWhen the weird figures that come out,
\nFlinging the flakes of flame,
\nIn this unreal game,
\nThat burns deep inside of us!<\/p>\n

Now and then, we will be there! <\/p>\n

But, after all,
\nIt\u2019s a long road to walk,
\nAlong the old and dusty paths,
\nWith lots scrapes all over the face,
\nScratching in and up under the skin,
\nScratching out our eyes,
\nAnd deep in our soul! <\/p>\n

The cave of the beasts and snakes in a hole,
\nAll tied up, in endless trap. <\/p>\n

Ah, the road,
\nIt\u2019s a long road
\nAnd we all must take as
\nThe first step is the last one!<\/p>\n

And walking that same road,
\nI don\u2019t know what I\u2019d do,
\nAnd if I could make out,
\nI don\u2019t know where to go! <\/p>\n

From there,
\nCatching each ray upon the light-
\nSide by side sticking together
\nSeeing flashes of light behind the eyes, <\/p>\n

You know, you walk,
\nYou walk, you learn!<\/p>\n

Monday, March 30, 1999
\nNJ\u00cb QIELL PAQEJE <\/p>\n

Le t\u00eb krijojm\u00eb nj\u00eb qiell paqeje
\nN\u00eb ballin e rrudhur t\u00eb \u00ebndrr\u00ebs,
\nE t\u00eb besojm\u00eb se nj\u00eb dit\u00eb ajo do t\u00eb vij\u00eb
\nDhe e jona do t\u00eb jet\u00eb.<\/p>\n

Bashk\u00eb me t\u00eb ne do t\u00eb kemi mb\u00ebrritur. . .<\/p>\n

Ndoshta n\u00eb nj\u00eb tjet\u00ebr koh\u00eb
\nKur shija e saj t\u00eb na duket e larg\u00ebt
\nSi buk\u00eb e thekur pas lodhjes dhe uris\u00eb,
\nSi uj\u00eb i kulluar pas etjes zhur,
\nSi zjarr i ndezur n\u00eb nj\u00eb bot\u00eb t\u00eb acart\u00eb
\nKu flaka b\u00ebn figura t\u00eb \u00e7uditshme
\nN\u00eb nj\u00eb loj\u00eb irreale q\u00eb brenda nesh digjet.<\/p>\n

At\u00ebher\u00eb kur t\u00eb kemi mb\u00ebrritur\u2026 <\/p>\n

Edhe pse rruga do t\u00eb jet\u00eb e gjat\u00eb
\nE lodhshme, me pluhur,
\nMe ashk\u00ebla g\u00ebrvish\u00ebse n\u00eb l\u00ebkur\u00eb, n\u00eb sy e n\u00eb shpirt,
\nKur guvat e rreziqeve dhe gjarp\u00ebrinjt\u00eb do t\u00eb ken\u00eb ngritur kurthe pafund…
\nPo rruga
\n\u00cbsht\u00eb rrug\u00eb e do b\u00ebr\u00eb se s\u2019b\u00ebn
\nNga hapi i par\u00eb tek i fundit se s\u2019b\u00ebn…
\nHyn…
\nS\u2019e di kur del, n\u00eb del, e ku
\nHyn…
\nKur drit\u00ebn dhe rrezen n\u00eb krye i kap
\nPas tyre ti ec\u00ebn dhe hap m\u00eb hap
\nMe drit\u00ebn n\u00eb sy dhe syt\u00eb n\u00eb drit\u00eb,
\nT\u00eb ec\u00ebsh di,
\nT\u00eb ec\u00ebsh m\u00ebson\u2026<\/p>\n

E h\u00ebn\u00eb, 30 Mars 1999<\/p>\n

Writing the Time <\/p>\n

With a pine needle in the bird’s beak,
\nAlong whole of sunset arch overhead,
\nIn the heat waves down to the earth\u2019s core,
\nI’m writing the time, in my own rhyme!
\n. -.
\nEye to eye, keep watching,
\nLike to be an only child,
\nI can hear my stomach rumbling,
\nPain writes the words in my ribs,
\nAs sorrow wields the pen in my veins! <\/p>\n

Forever and ever,
\nGoing on a journey together! <\/p>\n

I do not know what to do,
\nThrowing down a pencil, writing in pen,
\nWriting in ink, writing in the computer,
\nOr grabbing my paintbrush,
\nThen when it\u2019s dark, I make it bright,
\nAnd when it\u2019s still a little light,
\nShining deep inside my heart! <\/p>\n

This is my time,
\nNo body can change it,
\nI always know I belong with it,
\nAnd I still know it belongs to me,
\nI can feel it like an X-ray,
\nPeering through my skin! <\/p>\n

Monday April 08, 2013<\/p>\n

SHKRUAJ KOH\u00cbN<\/p>\n

Me hal\u00ebn e pish\u00ebs n\u00eb sqepin
\ne zogut
\nMe brush\u00ebn e diellit n\u00eb per\u00ebndim,
\nN\u00eb zhegun e nxeht\u00eb mbi koren
\ne tok\u00ebs
\nShkruaj koh\u00ebn time, n\u00ebn ritmin tim. <\/p>\n

E shoh n\u00eb sy si t\u00eb jet\u00eb f\u00ebmij\u00eb
\nN\u00eb lugth i ndiej cdo rreg\u00ebtim,
\nK\u00eblthitjet dhe dhimbjet i shkruaj
\nn\u00eb brinj\u00eb,
\nP\u00ebrher\u00eb me t\u00eb n\u00eb udh\u00ebtim. <\/p>\n

Nuk di me \u00e7\u2019pen\u00eb, nuk di
\nme \u00e7\u2019boj\u00eb
\nMe \u00e7\u2019laps, kompjuter, a penel,
\nKur \u00ebsht\u00eb e vran\u00ebt i jap pak ngjyr\u00eb
\nKur \u00ebsht\u00eb e ndritur e ruaj thell\u00eb. <\/p>\n

\u00cbsht\u00eb koha ime, askush s\u2019ma nd\u00ebrron
\nE di i p\u00ebrkas, e di, m\u00eb p\u00ebrket
\nTejp\u00ebrtej n\u00eb asht rrezja e saj
\nm\u00eb shkon
\nSi t\u00eb jet\u00eb rontgen. <\/p>\n

E h\u00ebn\u00eb, 8 prill 2013<\/p>\n

Woman <\/p>\n

As she put the saucepan on the stove, cooking lunch,
\nWith a sigh, she started cleaning up the mess
\nShe even washed all the floors and windows
\nAs well as she could,
\nKeeping the house clean and organized. <\/p>\n

On the same day,
\nShe washed all shirt collars,
\nHandkerchiefs and the linen clothes
\nby hand,
\nThen, she started to sort the stained clothes,
\nAnd putting a load into washing machine,
\nAnd after all that,
\nShe sat down for a few minutes,
\nRemaining in silence tired and alone,
\nHearing the last chuff-chuff\u2019s whistle
\nfrom the pressure pan\u2026<\/p>\n

Why he\u2019s being late?
\nIt seemed like someone called up to her,
\nBut there were little kids playing together
\nDigging through the earth’s crust,
\nAnd taking out pebbles mixed with dirt!<\/p>\n

Sought in a drawer, where she kept all
\nof those precious memories,
\nShe only wanted to \u201cgo over his clothes\u201d.
\nThen, she pulled out that summer-striped shirt
\nin bright colors,
\nAnd she put a sofa pillow inside of it!
\nShe looked down at the \u201cnew pillow case\u201d,
\nWith a large grin splitting her face,
\nAnd started,
\nTalking happy talk with his shirt! <\/p>\n

And what\u2019s the matter that
\nHe\u2019s not shown up yet?
\nThen, she laid the table for lunch
\nAnd sat down to eat,
\nWhat if something has happened to him?
\nShe nodded her head,
\nAs her fork dropped out of her hand\u2026<\/p>\n

Who knows, where is he wandering around?
\nPerhaps, he\u2019s eyeing up other woman!
\nAnd she continued to eat her lunch. <\/p>\n

To the last bite,
\nShe heard the doorbell chimed,
\nIt was only the postman,
\nWith a registered telegram\u2026from him!
\n \u201cDon\u2019t wait for me,
\nI don\u2019t know where I got lost,
\nI don’t even know why still want to come,
\nBut I won\u2019t come anymore!
\nPlease don\u2019t be worried,
\nAnd take care of your health! <\/p>\n

That was it! But after\u2026<\/p>\n

As she read the telegram,
\nShe threw her hands up in the air,
\nAttempting to get somewhere\u2026<\/p>\n

Ah, it was the return receipt\u2026
\nPease sign here!
\nShe scrawled a quick signature on it,
\nLike squeezing a lemon by hand!<\/p>\n

Through a broken shutter,
\nThe air leaked in from out,
\nJust her and the reality
\nflowing in the air!<\/p>\n

Monday December 03, 2012<\/p>\n

GRUA <\/p>\n

Pasi vuri drek\u00ebn mbi sob\u00eb, pastroi
\nsht\u00ebpin\u00eb, lau madje gjith\u00eb
\ndyshemet\u00eb dhe xhamet, vuri
\nrregull t\u00eb bukur.
\nLau me dor\u00eb jakat e k\u00ebmish\u00ebve,
\nshamit\u00eb e hund\u00ebve,
\nt\u00eb linjtat e bardha dhe mbushi
\nlavatri\u00e7en.
\nU ul p\u00ebr pak dhe priti, n\u00eb heshtje.
\nVet\u00ebm tenxherja me presion b\u00ebnte
\n\u00e7uf-\u00e7ufin e saj t\u00eb fundit. <\/p>\n

Pse po vonon?!
\nIu b\u00eb se dikush e thirri. Ishin
\nf\u00ebmij\u00ebt q\u00eb loznin n\u00eb lagje mes
\nguri\u00e7kave e dherave.
\nK\u00ebrkoi n\u00eb nj\u00eb sirtar ku mbante
\nkujtime dhe mori nj\u00eb kanotjere
\nverore vija-vija, ngjyra-ngjyra
\ndhe ia veshi jast\u00ebkut te divani.
\nE pa, dhe qeshi, dhe u g\u00ebzua, foli
\nme t\u00eb. <\/p>\n

Po ai pse s\u2019vinte?! Shtroi drek\u00ebn.
\nU ul n\u00eb tryez\u00eb. U ul t\u00eb hante. Mos i ka
\nndodhur gj\u00eb?! Piruni i ra nga
\ndora\u2026
\nKushedi ku bredh, ndoshta i kan\u00eb
\nshkuar syt\u00eb diku gjetk\u00eb.
\nDhe h\u00ebngri drek\u00eb. <\/p>\n

N\u00eb \u00e7ap\u00ebn e fundit ra zilja.
\nPostieri priste pas port\u00ebs me nj\u00eb telegram.
\n\u201cMos m\u00eb prit, nuk di ku humba,
\nnuk di se, edhe pse dua, nuk vij
\ndot te ty. Dhe mos u b\u00ebj merak,
\nnuk t\u00eb b\u00ebn mir\u00eb p\u00ebr sh\u00ebndetin.
\nKaq ishte por…\u201d
\nL\u00ebvizi duart n\u00eb aj\u00ebr p\u00ebr t\u2019u kapur
\ndiku. Ishte kund\u00ebrbileta e post\u00ebs.
\nFirmosni ju lutem k\u00ebtu. Ajo u mbajt
\nte firma si te nj\u00eb kok\u00ebrr limoni.
\nZonj\u00eb, mir\u00eb jeni?
\nKanata e der\u00ebs p\u00ebrcillte ajrin nga j
\nasht\u00eb brenda. Vet\u00ebm ajri l\u00ebvizte. <\/p>\n

E h\u00ebn\u00eb, 3 dhjetor 2012<\/p>\n

Give me just a single word<\/p>\n

Give me just a single word
\nAnd the whole world will be at our feet,
\nJust a single word that has a lot of rhymes;
\nWith every heartbeat and the pulse
\nOf this earth\u2026
\nWith a light from heaven
\nBrighter than the sun!
\nThat’s what makes us human beings! <\/p>\n

Give me just one word,
\nThat fills our heart with hope,
\nWith some gentle murmurs
\non each side,
\nTo buckle the inner rhythm
\nAs a belt around the waist,
\nWhile the red heart beats
\non the eagle\u2019s wings! <\/p>\n

Give me just one word,
\nAnd
\nI ‘ll give some light unto you,
\nJust a key word that appears
\nto be a few floors up,
\nLike a long pool cue that sinks
\ncolored balls into the holes\u2026<\/p>\n

Oh, just one word,
\nI mean, every single word,
\nA well-deserved one!
\nWednesday, November 14, 2012<\/p>\n

M\u00cb JEPNI NJ\u00cb FJAL\u00cb <\/p>\n

M\u00eb jepni nj\u00eb fjal\u00eb
\nT\u00eb ngre n\u00eb k\u00ebmb\u00eb bot\u00ebn
\nNj\u00eb fjal\u00eb t\u00eb vetme q\u00eb futet n\u00eb rim\u00eb,
\nMe rrahjet e zemr\u00ebs
\nMe pulsin e tok\u00ebs
\nMe drit\u00ebn n\u00eb qiell dhe me njerin\u00eb. <\/p>\n

M\u00eb jepni nj\u00eb fjal\u00eb
\nTa vesh me shpres\u00eb.
\nCa m\u00ebrm\u00ebrima t\u2019ia hedh mbi supe
\nRitmin e brendsh\u00ebm t\u2019ia lidh
\nsi brez
\nDhe krah\u00eb shqiponje mbi zemr\u00ebn
\ne kuqe\u2026<\/p>\n

M\u00eb jepni nj\u00eb fjal\u00eb
\nT\u2019ju fal nj\u00eb drit\u00eb
\nNj\u00eb fjal\u00eb themel q\u00eb mban katet lart
\nSi stek\u00eb e bilardos q\u00eb i \u00e7on n\u00eb prit\u00eb
\nGjith\u00eb gur\u00ebt e ngjyrat\u2026
\nM\u00eb jepni nj\u00eb fjal\u00eb. <\/p>\n

E m\u00ebrkur\u00eb, 14 n\u00ebntor 2012 <\/p>\n

A cup of sun<\/p>\n

Bring me the sun in a cup,
\nAnd I will drink it up,
\nCause it’s a long road ahead,
\nNever know what to expect,
\nNever know whom I might meet,
\nMaybe I\u2019ll never come back again! <\/p>\n

Just bear with me, look in my eyes;
\nI might be leaving forever,
\nWhat I left behind, I understand
\nAll that matters,
\nBut what would be expected,
\nI neither think that!<\/p>\n

Wonder why,
\nI\u2019m fed up with the light
\nThat gives life,
\nNow give me a cup of sun,
\nLet me take a sip and drink it up,
\nAnd all I want is nothing more! <\/p>\n

Milano, Saturday September 29, 2012<\/p>\n

NJ\u00cb GOT\u00cb DIELL <\/p>\n

Nj\u00eb got\u00eb diell ma jep ta pi
\nSe jam p\u00ebr rrug\u00eb t\u00eb gjat\u00eb,
\nS\u2019e di \u00e7\u2019m\u00eb pret, \u00e7\u2019takoj s\u2019e di
\nDhe s\u2019di a kthehem prap\u00eb. <\/p>\n

M\u00eb shoq\u00ebro, m\u00eb shih n\u00eb sy
\nNdoshta p\u00ebr fare shkoj,
\n\u00c7\u2019lash\u00eb pas, e di, ka r\u00ebnd\u00ebsi
\n\u00c7\u2019m\u00eb pret as e mendoj. <\/p>\n

Se jam gatuar p\u00ebr \u00e7udi
\nMe drit\u00ebn q\u00eb mbjell jet\u00ebn,
\nNj\u00eb got\u00eb diell m\u00eb jep t\u00eb pi
\nDhe nuk k\u00ebrkoj gj\u00eb tjet\u00ebr. <\/p>\n

Milano, e shtun\u00eb 29 Shtator,2012<\/p>\n

Written by Katjusha POGACI
\nTranslated from Albanian into English by
\nRaimonda MOISIU <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":9553,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-9552","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-poezi"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/revistakuvendi.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9552","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/revistakuvendi.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/revistakuvendi.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/revistakuvendi.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/revistakuvendi.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=9552"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/revistakuvendi.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9552\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":9554,"href":"https:\/\/revistakuvendi.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9552\/revisions\/9554"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/revistakuvendi.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/9553"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/revistakuvendi.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=9552"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/revistakuvendi.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=9552"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/revistakuvendi.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=9552"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}