combatting normality

 

 

BRIKENA SMAJLI
Kosova

TONIGHT

translated by Zana Banci and Anthony Weir

Not one door is open tonight -
the wolf and I both out on our own.

 

ALBANIAN VERSION:

 

SONTE

Nuk ka portë që hapet sonte
Ujku dhe unë jemi jashtë.

 

 

LULJETA LLESHANAKU
born 1968 in Elbasan,
is an unique and self-assured voice in modern (not just Albanian) poetry.
A selection of good translations of her poems (including an awkward version of this one, as well as critical and biographical essays on the poet)
was published under the title FRESCO in New York in 2002.

EXAMINATION

from the collection GJYSMËKUBIZËM (HALF-CUBISM)
(Tirana 1996)
translated by Anthony Weir

At every turn examined
like a noun
constantly declined

In the Existential Ablative
nails sprout from my imagination
like case-endings lined up
by my dead cells

In the Genitive
I pursue the Dwarf
who wrenched off my chain
of lymphocytes
dried up by the moon.
And in the Dative I'm quiet
bent over
in the camp at night
crushing parasites

But in the Nominative and Accusative
I am Narcissus, naked.
One day, solitary,
I'll drown in
my dreams.

 

 

IRMA SPAHO
now living in Boston, USA

THE SYMBOLS

translated by Irma Spaho and Anthony Weir

I was created from symbols
My little hands and feet were holding them when I
could barely crawl
My little mouth a deep black hole repeating them in
sleep
Yes, they were there among the first words I learned.
They prowled through my nightmares
And were deeply involved in my struggles
with cans and cannots.

Ah, the symbols, the symbols -
They stick to my mind like flies to wet paint,
Breeding like flies in the rims of my eyes
Where they take great pride
In trying to rescue the drowned of the past
Who come and go with the tides.
Symbols are aid-workers baggaged
with anguish and cruelty
For the bits of lost souls washed ashore.

I cannot escape from the symbols.
But when they go off to lie down, I will go back
and live with reality.

 

 

SUZANA ZISI

AT THE HOUSE OF ANIMALS

translated by Zana Banci and Anthony Weir

Wolf served me
coffee
imagining
the taste of my flesh…

Fox served me
lunch
while sketching
my coffin…

Mole served me
dinner
while digging
my grave…

Bloodstained birds
are pecking me;
Tattooed ants
are jumping on my back…

Where is the door ?
Open it !!
Bring in a human being.
- A human ?

Oh !
he died of miserable greed !
Then the wild beasts
occupied his home…

The planets
are screaming
into my heart…
are screaming.
.

 

ALBANIAN VERSION:

 

NË SHTËPINË E KAFSHËVE

Kafenë,
ma serviri
ujku.
Duke ëndërruar,
shijen
e mishit
tim…!

Drekën,
ma serviri
dhelpra.
Duke skicuar ,
arkivolin
tim…!

Darkën,
ma serviri
urithi.
Duke gërmuar,
varrin
tim…!

Zogjtë e përgjakur
më lëpijnë…
Milingonat,
tatuazh
më ngjiten
në shpinë…

Ku është dera?
Hapeniiiii…
Të hyjë
këtu,
njeriu.
Njeriu?

Oh!
Vdiq i ziu!
Bishat
e egra,
zaptuan
shtëpinë…

Planetet,
në kraharorin tim,
ulërijnë!
Ulerijne…

 

 

DRITAN ZAIMI
was born 1975 in Gramsh, central Albania.
His poems & short stories have appeared in several Albanian newspapers.
His first collection, Pain , was published in 2001 in Tirana, where he now lives.

translated by Zana Banci and Anthony Weir

MY DEATH

They told me
Death was coming soon
but he went down another street.
He'd got the wrong address.
What a pity!
When he does arrive
I won't know who he is.

 

RAINBOW
translated by the poet and Anthony Weir

After the rain
a shimmering shawl
unfolded and paraded
above the hill

Butterflies swarmed
and drank the rainbow
after the flowers.

 

DREAM

My dream fell asleep
and slept.
When it awoke
it noticed that I
had fallen asleep

for good.

 

IMBECILES

Those we don't understand
we call stupid
Those who don't understand us
we call stupid.

Surprise, surprise -
the world is filled
with imbeciles!

 

THE END OF PAIN

Still will I keep my silence.
By keeping silent, cry.
Through weeping, I will come to laugh;
from laughing I will die.

 

ALBANIAN VERSIONS:

BUDALLENJTË

Atë që s'e kuptojmë
e quajmë budalla.
Atë që s'na kupton
përsëri e quajmë budalla.

Sa cudi !
Kjo botë përbëhet prej dy budallenjsh.

 

YLBERI

Nje shall shumengjyresh mbeshtolli kodren.
Fill pas shiut u be drite.

Renden fluturat ti rrembenin ngjyrat
dhe pas pak drita ju fik.

 

ËNDËRRA

Ëndërra ime ra në gjumë,
. . . fjeti !
Dhe kur u zgjua,
pa se unë kisha fjetur
përgjithmonë.

 

VDEJKA IME

Më thanë se vdekja
ishte nisur për tek unë.
Pastaj kish kthyer rrugë,
sepse kish ngatërruar adresë.
Ç'fatëkeqësi!
Ndoshta një ditë nuk do të njohim
as vdekjen tonë.

 

FUNDI I NJE DHIMBJEJE

Sërish do të hesht
e duke heshtur, do të qaj
Duke qarë, do të qesh
e duke qeshur, do të vdes.