SUNDAYS DO NOT CALL ME

Sundays do not call me

Maybe I won’t wake up

Forever remaining in the sleep of death.

Do not forget the frozen moments

Only on Sundays your day is chosen.

For you, when I die

After seven mountains,

I will seek your name.

Ah! why don’t you come on other days

TEUTA

Tonight, I call you Teuta

To go to the pub Poison

That your tongue draws out.

Your eyes – harbingers of ice

In the broken branch

Of the silent destiny.

Teuta

Gods bow before you.

I REMEMBER YOUR FACE

I remember your face

The blood – frozen tear

Covering me.

I remember your language

A snake – black poison

Wrapping my destiny.

When you sleep

I wake up

With your memory.

YOU SLEPT UNDER THE MOON

Don’t you pity me?

Lest the sun hurt your eyes?

You slept under the shadow of the moon

And nilly i hid you in the song.

Why are you crying?

Aren’t you sorry that the eyes

Will come in your song

And I’ll forget the way back?

From the mischievous wailing,

From the black dream,

Please don’t cry

Don’t you pity me, child?

WHEN I WILL DIE

When I will die

Do not cry baby

I betrayed you

With the virgins of another planet.

When I will die do not cry sister

I gallop on Gherghi’s horse *

Over the waves of the sea…

When I will die do not cry mother

Only nurse

these

melancholic

metaphors

as you nursed me once…

__________

* Gjergj Elez Alia, a folk character