Na nuk jena t’ktuhit (We are not from here)

na nuk jena tktuhit (1)Title: Na nuk jena t’ktuhit (We are not from here)

Author: Manjola Brahaj
Place of publication: Pristina
Year of publication: 2014
Publisher: PA
Genre: Poetry

ISBN: 978-9951-613-16-3

© all rights reserved to the author: brahajmanjola@hotmail.

 

 

 

Extract

 

METAMORPHOSIS

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

 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 ,

But  love.

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

 

DISTANCES

Cold and shapeless

the one we love,

running chases different ways

just for one day

to come.

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