by Zef Jushi
Strange caterpillars on a huge log,
As life rejuvenates in sleep,
Drained, drowsy, high up crawl,
Pitch-black, ghastly mountain steep.
Out of our life nothing remained,
Apart weary eyes staring at the sky,
Only lament hearts, off love drained,
Heartbeat for hope, to freedom fly.
Dark soil below, above, a piece of sky,
Where hours, dreams, hopes wind,
Pillars, barbed wires, heavens slashed by,
Deep loathing, hatred humankind.
You musicians, poets and artists,
Why don’t you leave as memory,
To human race profound griefs,
Forever lasting unto mortality?
Caterpillars I said... and not larva,
To fly up high, waiting for their wings,
And the world in bright days marvel,
With honey and bee stings!
Translate from The Albanian by Hilda M. Xhepa
