Ismail Bey Vlora

- dedicated to my friend Vladimir Meminaj -The sea of Vlorë, wave upon wave,Its deep, unmeasured chest,The breaker rushes to reach the shoreA fustanella with open wings.Upon the waves a little boatIs rocking like a cradle,Swaying lightly over the hillA lullaby that never ends.Inside the cradle, swaying, swaying,A dream arrived from ages past,Now it appears, now it is lost,Nation—homeland, your glory.The depths of the Ionian roar,Booming and calling around the world,It is the breathing of the nationKnocking at the threshold of the door.History in a boatComes rocking, rising and falling,Rushing to seek the seal on the paper,While freedom combs her hair like a bride.Ismail, oh bey of Vlorë,You see the nation’s eyes in the Ionian,Seize the head of the crownAnd place it on the nation’s head!Lead the day of the weddingFind a bride like a season,Add to the days of hope itselfMake freedom herself the bride!The bay of Vlorë raises wavesThe shore shakes its shoulders in waiting,The nation-sea booms out, HOMELAND,Freedom is a cheer.Ismail upon his shouldersSpeaks with waves, speaks with words,The cheering fades awayOver the breakers as if on a horse.Upon a horse, upon the wind,Over mountain and over meadow,What is this wind, this spring,That overthrows the Empire!?***From Kosova comes BuletiniRiding his horse as if in a race,Seeking before the dawn breaksTo be the first wedding guest.In his chest he holds Fushë-Kosova,In his veins the Lumbardhi, the Drini,He winds his heart like a clock,In his mouth, freedom—the battle cry.On his shoulders the rivers of bloodGathered through centuries, through years,This is the old man’s giftIn honor of this day.Rifle shots follow behind himBajram Curri rushes through the rites,Hidden in ambushes, in oak woods,Guarding the language, a rainbow of light.From the Congress of ManastirThe words come like wisdom,Speaking with the martyr's blood:- The letters are like bread itself.Rushing after the letter and the gunshotFreedom herself is laughing,Rivers of blood, the braveryThe nation itself speaks... Independence!The gunshots gather through the centuriesTogether with freedom, life itself,A free Albania it shall remain,Haxhi Zeka sends word.His body cut by bulletsThe tower catches fire, it burns,His soul flies as dovesSeeking the pathways free.Hasan Prishtina, a foremost leaderA man of few words and deep in thought:- Freedom is a golden medal,Sought after through the centuries!The rivers of Kosova flowFilled with brave men, filled with life,Surging with waves to pour out,Far away in Vlorë, far into the sea.***Luigji i Gurakuqit rushesTo the groom’s side in Vlorë,He wants to be with the wedding guestsTo take part in the crowning.Shkodra is giving him a giftThe walled-in castle of history,So the world may see and hearThe antiquity of Illyria.At mother Rozafa’s breastFreedom lives, catches the breeze,Drinks milk, beneath the sun and moon,And through the centuries grows and grows.And through the centuries grows and growsThen sets off running down the road,So the nation’s path is never cutThe path of life, of liberty.The bay of Vlorë takes a deep breathThe Vjosa pours, the Drini swells,The tree of freedom will be plantedEven before the dawn has broken.Ismail, oh bey of the Crown,Holding the whole nation in your hands,Raise high the beauty of VlorëForged throughout the centuries!***Marigo, what have you embroidered,With your hoop and with your needle,Your thread with a thousand troublesWhat a masterpiece you have made?An eagle with open wingsUpon the red shoulder of the nation,An unmeasured flow of bloodEnough for the debts of the whole globe.Your eagle with its head held highFlies like a bee over the honeycombs,Calling out and crying loudTo gather the birds to their lands.You gathered the birds, you gathered the brave,Around the table, around the hearth,You let loose the lightning bolts,You set the chimney ablaze with freedom.They set their seals upon a paper,Our Vlorë proclaimed a wedding,Then they came out with fiery wordsAnd brought freedom out onto the balcony.- Ismail, what are you holding in your hands,What are you releasing into the clouds?- A dove, may it be blessed,It is the twenty-eighth!The bay of Vlorë roarsRaising waves, Sazani appears,Europe is cold, it freezes,Finding nowhere to take shelter.The eagle at the setting of the sunBeat its wings and dashed away,Gave flights to the skyAnd settled deep into the flag.It took its place and built its nestLaid its eggs across the fronts,Fed and raised them through the centuries,To defend freedom through the ages..Through the centuries, bey, your glory!

PILO ZYBA