From the cycle..."OUR LANDS AND HOMELANDS"KOSOVAYour children have grown, Albania,Çamëria, Shkupi, Peja.They are all building houses,Beautiful, good, and new...The love remains for them all,In the same body, the language, the flag, the history...THE LEGACY- For Ibrahim Rugova -- Son, I am leaving, paradise is calling me,I leave you this land, blessed Kosova!- Father, we will go together,The dough of freedom has been kneaded...- I am gone, son, you have a different time,History must be created,Then written down on paper...Come only after you have made it a deed!KAÇANIKUA Serbian bomb, and then fire,The tower burns, turns into an altar.And while beams and roofs burn,The birds depart into the universe...Left without nests, without shelter or leaves,They tell the world a truth.The tower ablaze, turned to ash,The bomb is forgotten, the tower writes history...THE TOWER OF MIC SOKOLIThey stayed in Bujan, at Mici's one day:- Are you there, Mic Sokoli, can you welcome guests?Silence! The tower opened two windows,The voice speaks as loud as a hundred volleys:- Mici has gone out to welcome freedom,In the tower he has left history for them...The door is open, let them come in!THE SERBSA swarm of cicadas with a discordant voice,Without orchestration, without harmony, a wretched choir.No one will ever listen to this concert,It is the light of a setting sun!IN PRIZREN- Where are you going, they asked me this spring?- To Prizren, I go there often!- Do you have people there?- Yes, Abdyl Frashri is waiting for me…He left Tirana some years ago.Ever since he was alive he longed for it,When Kosova was freed he changed his abode…He welcomes and sees off guests for liberation day,A home needs its parents on days of joy…THE CASTLE OF PEJAIt is not beautiful, tall, like a palace,Stone upon stone it carries on its shoulders.They knock down its stones, they ruin its foundations,But history, still, does not move from there.GJAK – KOVABlood by the bucket was spilled on your blessed body,So that history would remain written through the centuries…The blood on your streets cannot be seen…But history is read, when the visitor enters it…THE STORK- For Kosova -It has spread its white wings,It stays motionless, focused.It sways its body, the beautiful map,Reading it from above…The valleys, the strong mountains,The life carved, written down,It does not want to land on the ground,Without finishing the book…THE FLAG OF KOSOVAIt has been years since the eagle left the flag,The world is speechless, left in wonder.The eagle roams the skies, the continents without rest,To tell them history, to wish them the desired freedom…..................
PILO ZYBA
