A Poem
This October morning,With the nib of the pen of thought,I shook the clouds in the blue skyAnd turned them into dew,To water the flower of your smile!
Good morning, beauty of April,Who lives in all the seasons,And sifts with the retina of your eyeThe spring, that walks barefootOn the wet sand of the Ocean!
Good morning, blue wave,That comes dancingAnd crashes on the shores of my thoughts.You who wet with blue splashes the desires,The lush blooming of the smile,And the path paved with petals of lightBy the moon of our sky, filled with stars!
Ah, this distant path,Paved with desires, like cobblestones,Carved by hands and minds in love,Where we walk barefoot,Lightly,Sometimes touching, sometimes kissing the toes of the stones,Hewn by the feet of travelers through centuries,By caravans of love, that left and never returned!
We, the descendants of Alexander, Pyrrhus, Teuta,Who never rushed to kiss glory,Never ran to conquer lands, continents,But rushed to discover in each otherThe depth of the sea of feelings, the fields of the soul,The beauty and the blooming of the seasons,The rapid beating of the heart,From the rushing flow of the riversOf feelings in all the valleys and hills of the body...
Good morning, my maiden, my Rozafa,Who gave me the breast of love to drink in full,Who fed me with the love that forms into drops,Sweetens and emerges as a dewdrop on the petals of the lips,Of those lips, which when a kiss falls upon them,Turn into glittering days and space,Where the seagulls of joy peck with their beaksThe white morning of happiness!
What is happening to us like this,How will we keep the dance going being so far apart?Will we stretch out the wings of the wind to touch each other,And dance in the sky and on the earthOnly with our desires,Without touching and without joining our bodies?Will our love be a pollination,That beneath the sonnets of the breeze and the wind,Will unite the pollens to turn them into honey?
I do not know, do not ask me anymore,I only know that horses run through the fields of my soul,White-maned horses, that clatter, that run,They fall upon you and bring me from you the great desire to ride,To rush toward an unknown future,Untouched before by the feather-light pen of my soul,Nor by the petals of lips thirsty for love.
My sea where I want to dive,To gather in the depths the pearls I dreamed of in life,And emerge on the blue shore of your joy,And tell the world: “There is happiness in the world,Yes, there is, because I touched it myself, I caressed it, and,Beneath the light and the radiance of its pearls,I became a hundred times greater, stronger, more beautiful!”
Ah, great world, with seas, seasons and rivers,Laden with mountains of troubles,With snows that can never be crossed!With crazy seasons that do not stay static,Unstable, sometimes white, green, gray,That bring and plant in the fields of the human soul,The fruits of kindness, hatred, love and envy,Of these plants that you pour all together,And man must choose them,Separate them, and guard them carefully in life!
Love,Where can I find today a hydroelectric plant of light,To make visible and clear to you the pathFrom where you start, and where you are headed?To dress you in the waves of the river turned into rays,So the world can see how beautiful you are!To give you the power of the turbines,To overturn the seas of misunderstandingsOf canons created for restraint.To open for you the gates of dreamsSo you can run free, sometimes on foot, sometimes on wings,To touch and taste the forbidden apple of Adam!
Good morning, love,You, the little one who played on one foot,Who jumped with the little rope in the neighborhood,But that rope grew long and did not let you jump overThe envious gazes of the neighborhood, the city, and your future!My love,The little girl with the lush smile of her age,Burdened over the years by the weights of heavy seasons, of years,Hunched shoulders, wounded heart, seeking your lost flights!
Where can I build a little aerodrome,So that with the propellers of your thoughts and desires,You can rise, detach from the earth,And land on the aerodrome of my paradise,Which awaits you with open arms, open soul, open lips?
*I watch a Dragonfly that opens its wings over the waters,Wings colored by the morning rays of the sun.It blinks them lightly like two fragile and light eyelashes,Then,It lands slowly on the tip of a thin reedThat looks like an index finger, counting the stars at night.So many stars that shine, my love,So many loves have made light through the centuries,And together with them will be the light of our love too,Both in the evening sky, and on the verdant earth!
The dragonfly blinks its wings and rises, rises, rises,It rises to touch with its helicopter wingsThe voices and the laughter of those in love.The dragonfly is a deep exclamation of feeling,That emerges from souls in love,With its wings it leaves to write on the dome of the sky,The rhythm of the movement of its wings,The warmth of the waves of the sea of the soul.Beneath my gaze and the light’s,It sways its beautiful waist,Making hieroglyphs decoded only by those in love.
I run after its colors and its flight.I call to it, my Dragonfly, my Dragonfly, wait for me,Wait for me, let us make the path of flights together...It turns its blue eye,Lets out a beautiful caressing laugh,And rises up, up, up,There where with the needles of desiresWe have woven the little nest of our dreams,And where we wait to rest until eternity.
Fill your chest with breath, my love...I want, beneath the bagpipe sounds of your laughter,To dance a dance dressed in the colors of the soul,With the wings of the wind to climb into the sky of your joys,To become a flyer,Just as the touch of your lip and your kiss makes me...I want, inside your voice,To bathe, to drown, to emerge again,To emerge baptized from the sins of this mad world,Bringing out from the depth of your seas,All the plants that time has drowned,To bring them out into the light,To bring them out beneath the moon,So they can see how the flowers bloom, how the feelings flourish,How the surface of the skin of your moon-body gets goosebumps,When the breath of a butterfly passes over it,Seeking the flower that suits it in colors,In scents, in beauty and in the vocal cords,In the sweetness released in major by the taut strings of desires.
We, my soul,Will make a duet,A symphony that will remain for time and generations,For what time is missing today,To accept the loves,Which are born without the white paper of the municipality worker,And without the long and paid chanting of the old priest,Of the priest who has performed thousands of rites in his life,But who never threw in there the potion of bondingAnd of the conception of love,He only sang to them according to the manner and routine,That comes from the centuries,But whose plowshare has been broken by time.We will not sign,We will not shout in the presence of people,To prove how much we love each other,Because we sign with glances, with touches,With dozens of promises,That every day raise higher and higher the castle of love.
You play the Bagpipe, I dance, then we both dance,We are invisible in our dancing,Only the stars watch us, only the moon,One of them, from the joyful melody of the voice,Of our dance, is moved to tears and falls...Because it too was forced for thousands of yearsTo live in the bosom of the night,And did not see the blooming of the trees,Of the flowers, nor the morning dew,That falls and shines on the tray of the tree leaf.
Then, then my dear,You will kiss me on my scorched lipsFrom the lack of love over the years,You will hold me tight,You will bring out your beautiful breast and put it to my mouth.Let the mountains tremble,Let the dried leaves of the old trees shake,Because we are living the time and the years of our blooming.
*At dawn, my love,I saw you in a dream in my morning sleep.I had fallen asleep,You stood over me with your hair let down,The window had opened its wings,The breeze that entered inside,Swayed it over my face, over my eyes.I reached out my hands, but I could not catch you,I could not touch you, because dreams cannot be caught,They are films created by feeling itself,They are the imagination of human desires...
I got up!You were walking through the room with your hair let down,In a lace nightgown,Woven into a braid by the needles of love’s longing.I called to you: “Come here, my love,”You, like Hamlet’s Ophelia, ran and climbed onto the window.I shouted to you, “Do not jump, do not jump,”But instead of an answer,I got the beating of your wings,Of the nightgown that opened, and you turned into a dragonfly.I watched you as you moved away toward a new horizon,The horizon fled further, higher, farther away.
I called to you, “Wait!”But you jumped, my soul, you jumped,You flew over the trees, over the flowers,I watched only your vision,The folds of the dress and the open wings,Like a dragonfly they fled, they crossed the horizon,To make the world more beautiful, more clear,The vision given by desire and the beautiful feeling of love...
I called to you again, “Wait for me, wait for me!”You heard my call, you returned!I could not see you but,I only heard the beating of your fragile wings.Then,Then you stopped on the top of a tree,As if you wanted to tell me:“We will be invisible to others,But visible to ourselves.”You opened your chest and appeared on the horizons with your graces revealed.Then,Then the day dawned and became more beautiful,Everything took on the look and the beauty of your body,Of your smile, of your breath...
I jumped from the window,Without thinking that I have no wings,But to my surprise,To my surprise I flew too,I came to the branch of your chirpings,To sing to life a rare duet,Accompanied by the piano of the keyboards of the wavy sea,Accompanied by the rustle of the seagulls’ wings,That flew over us like greeting cards.You are the conductor of our love,The beats of your heart are its rhythms...
We opened our soul, the day opened its eye,Life took on vitality from our love...
