| TE HEKURAT E FRENGJISË SIME | AT THE BARS OF MY CELL |
| Visar Zhiti | trans. Robert Elsie (from Albanian) |
|
Kaq bukur këndoi bilbili te hekurat e frengjisë sime, sa dhe hekurat m'u bënë degë të gjelbra qershie. Dyshemeja u mbush plot me cicërima dhe unë mëgjunjazi si therrime buke, si therrime jete një nga një po i mblidhja. (Në birucë, 1980) |
How sweetly the nightingale sang Through the iron bars of my wind ow, Transforming the very iron into the verdant branches of a cherry tree. The floor was covered in warbles And I, on my knees, Picked them up one by one Like crumbs of bread, like crumbs of life. (in a prison cell, 1980) |
Copyright © Visar Zhiti; trans. copyright © Robert Elsie.