Poetry

A Legend

A legend,
A word which never withers,
Is a light pursued by darkness
In the accursed canyons
Which proclaims judgment on its own wisdom.
A legend - it is my people
Seared like a stone burst into flame
And yet green like the buds of first blossoms,
Fled like the ray which slipped into the abyss,
Come like the last soldier with victory on his flag,
Bound in a root enshrouded by earth
Where fear grows mouldy in the marrow of crags,
Dreaming of snowdrifts.
A legend,
A smoky fortress,
Amidst the storms of time,
The meadows of hope,
Advancing through my verse.


by Din Mehmeti

[Një legjendë, from the volume Klithmë është emri im, Tirana 2002, p. 141. Translated from the Albanian by Robert Elsie]

Night of the Poets

When silence envelops all things,
When everyone is asleep,
Do poets awaken
To seethe in their verse,
To squeeze from it
The bitter blood of thought,
Their spirits - a battlefield,
In the fever of words
They perish slowly without a cry.

by Din Mehmeti

[Nata e poetëve, from the volume Klithmë është emri im, Tirana 2002, p. 81. Translated from the Albanian by Robert Elsie]

Girls are made of water

Girls have only
Moonlit paths
Where they tread like the strains of a violin
Towards the forbidden fruit
urged on by the wind,
the clement, warm wind
which brings the rain,
To and fro in their white and slender veils
They swing and sway to the azure heavens.
And onwards they tread
Like the strains of a violin.
Girls have wondrous worlds
in their watery imagination.
They perish in your hands.
They never find the only way
There is to dream.
No one feeds them.
They hurry forth,
Growing up so terribly fast.
Disrobing in rundown lodgings
They sacrifice themselves,
For girls perish
As soon as they are grown...
Despite their earthly
Urges
They remain UNATTAINABLE
For
They live no longer than a sigh.

by Lindita Arapi

[Vajzat janë prej uji, from the volume Ndodhi në shpirt, Elbasan: Onufri 1995, p. 33, translated from the Albanian by Robert Elsie]

My land

This land
Mutilated
With streets and fixed purposes
To expedite its people
Once and for all
Somewhere and nowhere.
For the streets
Here
All end in doubtful crossroads
I am searching for a Land
Which I can have
As my own country.
My land is far away
And
It is there, in that country,
That I will be born.
Somewhere it will exist
This new Land,
Oh earth of mine, though not of earth.
My home awaits me,
Unknown and buried,
There
In the midst of an Empire of Winds.

by Lindita Arapi

[Toka ime, from the volume Ndodhi në shpirt, Elbasan: Onufri 1995, p. 24, translated from the Albanian by Robert Elsie]

A simple smile, a loving word, a joke to brighten up the day, A phone call when you're not at your best, a light to lead the way, An ear to listen a heart to accept, to love and understand, The simple way you came to me, the gentle touch of your hand. The way we think a lot alike on fun or serious things, It seems to be this friendship has taken to it's wings. Through days and weeks and even months we have shared a lot "deep" within, but guaranteed with love and trust, that's a good way to begin. For when two people such as us, can meet and almost blend, I've read your heart, I know your mind, and am "greatful" to call you Friend.

(This poem was thought of and written through inspiration given to me by a very dear and close friend that I met online. Our time together is fun yet insightful and our friendship that has grown gives me something to look forward to everyday.)