Author: Manjola Brahaj
Place of publication: Pristina
Year of publication: 2014
© all rights reserved to the author: brahajmanjola@hotmail.
My words have risen as zombies screaming sky high
as you fierce Zeus won’t pour me to your glas and drink me.
My lips become salty from dusk to dawn over seas of your skin
as you sour Charon won’t take me for a map on your body’s boat.
My hands burn in new moon’s fires from clouds down to earth
as you egoistic Orpheus won’t take me as a note to your sound.
Eroding my body melts from the bottom to the highest peak,
You crazy Ceops won’t take me to your grave as a bone.
My heart is in pieces and my fate crumbling.
As I cannot find a love as yours Adam
To pray even though it is the end,
to sing a song for all the unshed tears
long and long enough to spend a lifetime
unable to finish singing.
To pray, Yes, even though it is a dark night
and you are darker than ever.
to pray for your darkness,
while I’m left with nothing else attached,
but your eyes,
who long to eat me alive.
To pray, even though we believe in nothing ,
For all the words that won’t be born
and remain in our barren wombs.
To pray also with the sounds of that long song
to end that prayer,
but not the Song.
To end the darkness,
but not love.
To shut the words,
but not Breath.
Transleated from albanian: Shqiptar Oseku
Literary editor: Ilir k. Vezvesja
Cold and shapeless
the one we love,
running chases different ways
just for one day
A touch has no smell
remains a closed anxiety in itself,
crazed for itself
loved for itself
drowned for itself
no revenge no aim
no light, no whisper
no water, no wail
A touch belongs to nobody.
Distant is a rain that wets our bones.
Distant is a sun that burns our souls.
Distant is a soil that we have in our flesh
As breath with breath in exhaustion.
As voice with voice in a calling.
As color with color in blurring
As me in you with all the craziness fire.
As you in me with all the anxiety of love.
As both of us together with the weight of
times without each other.
As the widening of the horizons,
who keep flooding in our eyes
to remain strange.
The extract is translated from albanian: Ilir k. Vezvesja