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#albanian poetry
doeadeerdea · 27 days
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Scandalous Song
A pale-faced nun who with the sins of this world
Bears my sins, too, upon her weary shoulders,
Those shoulders, wan as wax, which some deity has kissed,
Roams the streets like a fleeting angel.
A pale-faced nun, cold as a marble tomb,
With greyish eyes like the ashes of spent desires,
With thin red-ribbon lips, tightly pressed to smother her sighs,
A chilling image of her has lingered in my memory.
From pious prayers she comes and to her prayers she returns.
In downcast eyes, in lips, in folded hands her prayers repose.
Without her prayers what fate would be the world's?
Yet they cannot stop another day from dawning.
Oh, nun so pale, making love to the saints,
Consumed in ecstasy before them like an altar candle,
Revealing herself to them..., oh, how I envy the saints,
Pray not for me, for I am hell-bent with desire.
You and I, nun, are two ends of a rope,
On which two teams tug one against the other -
The struggle is stern and who knows how it will end,
So, tug the rope, let the teams contend.
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earthbloods · 2 years
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Ismail Kadare, Në studion dimërore, trans. by Enna Horn
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shikomengalarg · 2 years
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Mirdita
Oj Mirditë, Mirdita ime,
S’ka ushqim që do të t’ngopë
Bukë, as pemë, as perime,
S’do ta mbushin atë gropë
O Mirditë, Mirdita ime,
Fytyrë-çelur, shpirt-vetjake
Vite t’ardhme do t’mendohesh
Pa jetuar si u plake
Zemër-këputur, o Mirdita,
Do të vdesësh pa pushuar,
Pa shumë frikë, por jo as trime,
A ke lind për t’u harruar?
Ditë, Ditë, o Mirdita,
Haje bukën, fale vetën.
Nëse jo, do të kalosh,
Me fajin tënd gjithë jetën.
O Mirditë, gjithë këtë kohë,
Me mundim e ke kaluar,
Mirditë, ka dikush që të do,
Edhe pas kohës së shkuar.
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soracities · 2 years
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Why do I often feel empty like eternity with no millennia?
Moikom Zeqo, excerpts from Letters from the Dark (trans. Loredana Mihani)
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betusharapatusha · 1 month
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xxyouinfiremexx · 3 months
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Teksti:
Një vorbull, një ciklon në gropën
Ku dikur kisha zemrën, është zgjuar.
Bën terr, me mikroskop duke e afruar
Nuk jam shumë e sigurt,
Duket si forma e syve t’tu,
Ndoshta edhe e kam gabuar.
Kam imazhe të vagullta dhe mjegulluara,
Ndërsa zëri yt jehon në veshin tim,
Çdo natë, e nga kjo ndjenjë
Nuk gjejë çlirim.
Herë duket si perëndim, në rrënjët e mija
Duke rrjedhë uji si n’pranverë;
Herë m’duket si stuhi
E pandalshme, me kaq fuqi
Sa t’më marroj, e tek ti t’më drejtoj.
O, çdo sekond.
Çdo sekond, jam në siklet,
Emrin tënd me përmend,
Mantra e dytë pas frymëmarrjes.
- Turpnisë i vjen fundi.
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consultingcriminal · 7 days
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made a wallpaper for myself wanted to share
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retedheguret · 1 year
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“se njeriu, kur ka frikë... i bëhet ajo që e tmerron më shumë…”
Fantazma dhe plani 3+4 - Petro Marko
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Old News - Luljeta Lleshanaku - Albania
Translator: Henri Israel (Albanian)
In the village nestled between two mountains the news always arrives one month late, cleansed in transit, glorified, mentioning only the dead who made it to paradise, and a coup d’état referred to as ‘God’s will’.
Spring kills solitude with solitude, imagination the sap that shields you from your body. Chestnut trees awaken, drunken men lean their cold shoulders against a wall.
The girls here always marry outsiders and move away leaving untouched statues of their fifteen-year-old selves behind.
But the boys bring in wives from distant villages, wives who go into labor on heaps of grass and straw in a barn and bear prophets. Forgive me, I’d meant to say ‘only one will be a prophet’. The others will spend their lives throwing stones (that is part of the prophecy, too).
At noon on an autumn day like today they will bolt out of school like a murder of crows stirred by the smell of blood and chase the postman’s skeleton of a car as it disappears around a corner, leaving only dust.
Then they will steal wild pears from the ‘bitch’s yard’ and nobody will stop them. After all, she deserves it. She’s sleeping with two men. Between the pears in one boy’s schoolbag lies a copy of Anna Karenina. It will be skimmed over, impatiently, starting on the last page cleansed and glorified, like old news.
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burningvelvet · 1 year
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secretsofthemoonn · 9 months
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in Albanian "të dua" means i love you. But the verb "me dasht" also means to want, to need and to love. So when an Albanian says "të dua", they are saying they want you, need you and love you all at once, and i think that's beautiful.
I don't know where i read this but it never leaves my mind
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itsmarineee · 1 year
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Not a perfect one, but a deeply felt one🪷
-itsmarineee
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earthbloods · 2 years
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Into what dream have we fallen so badly that we cannot wake up from it? ... A few raindrops fell on the glass, and I longed for you.
Ismail Kadare, Mall, trans. by Enna Horn
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feelinglonelyaf · 1 year
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Kur hapa syte per her te pare
Ti me kishe ne krahë duke qarë
Nje premtim me dhee qe do jesh perher pranë
Prane meje, edhe nje puthje ne ballë me dhurove
Duke me then sa shum me doje.
-E.H.
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soracities · 2 years
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Why did Scheherazade survive every morning by telling the lie called Art?
Moikom Zeqo, excerpts from Letters from the Dark (trans. Loredana Mihani)
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betusharapatusha · 1 month
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