POETRY
Hymni Kombėtar Prej lufte
veē ay largohet, Nė dorė
armėt do t'i mbajmė, Se Zoti vet
e tha me gojė, Aleksander
Sotir Drenova called Asdreni
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Albanian
National Hymn
United around the flag, With one desire and one aim All swearing to it, giving the word for our salvation. Only who is born traitor runs away from the fight , The real man, does not frighten, But dies, yes dies like a martyr. Ready with our arms to defend our Native land, We will assert our rights, and we will expel the enemy . The word of God says that some Nations, will be sweeped out from the earth, But Albania will always exist, Because we will fight for her!
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TFALUN ATDHETARIT TĖ KOSOVES *
(
Pėr tė mira qi ā tuj u-pėrpjekė me bā pėr gjuhė shqipe )
Sado nen źmėn i tKosoves je mblue
Po mdan prej Shkodrės sime;
Vllaznisht po tfalem pra qi ke fillue
Me i prū giuhės son lulzime.
Me t dreit sot ka pėrse mu-gzue Shqipnija,
Sot
ka kź me thirr bķr;
Pse me irrit źmnin po punon djelmnija,
E giuhėn me i a dlķr.
Kety gjuh t tingllueshme, tambel e trimnesh
Ket
gjuh plot bukurķ;
Qi
né tmjerve na e ēon gjith zźmrėn pesh
N
dhé thuej lark tuj e ndķ.
Por
prap sot jan disa qi edhe skuptojnė
I
gjuhės ēāsht pėrparimi;
Tuj
ndrrue gjuhėn tfalitunit mendojnė,
Se vjen qytetėnimi.
Ktyne njerzve qi mbahen gjind me krye,
Sa
tdalin prej gzhojs svet,
E
t rrīn jashta do dit, kur kan me kthye
Ske
shqip mā pse ju flet.
Por
nmos e paēim prap faret harrue,
E flasin tan perzije;
Me I pvet : « Ej ēkeni bā, si keni shkue ? »
Tthon « Dobro, kako vije? »
« Ma jena gią merzit; ktū as dreqi i srrī ;
Halą jan rozzi ed empi;
Nder
vende tjera kem, la Dieu merci,
Shum qefe e passatempi .»
«
Del nieri me shtetit , shkon al Caffč;
Merr bash la sua ragazza
Mblidhna
per nat nder balli e soirée
Si
gode e si gavazza.
Ktu
invece sdijn neanche per idea
Ēka
do me than progresso ;
Jan gjind tegjer ancora, gente rea
Snderojn il debol sesso. »
Kshtu flasin, bisedojn, kshtu djekt e vet
Pezmojn tmjeren shqipnķ;
Dy fjal smund t thon jrejt shqip, pse Zoti vret
Fjalt t thueja mbrend pa shtī.
Spo flasim per buongiorno e buonasera
Kto fjal i ndijm pa dį :
Do mu-pėrshndet thon tash deri kali imera,
Guttmorgen
herren,
disį.
Ah
tfalitun! Ku e xūt ket diturije?
Fort
jeni tuj gabue !
Se
njallet poplli, der sot kush ska ndije ,
Gjuh
e zakon tuj ndrrue !
Si
tbjerr gjuhėn nji popull shqim mbaron ;
Nshum
ēeta ka me u-dį :
Gjuha
njerzt e nji kombi i bashkon,
I lidh si vllan me vllį.
Si
tlam zakonet qi kem pas ne e
par ,
Prindt ton si ti mohojm,
Fisnik mā sjemi, sjemi mā Shqiptar
Skem mbrapa kuj ti shkojm.
Pra ju Shqiptart e rķ pade mdiftoni
Ku e xūt ket far njerzijet
Qi mbaheni si tardhun nga Londoni,
Prej Francės o prej Austrijet.
Kjet ndoshta der n Triesht o n Dobrovnik,
Der
nVjen o der nTrebin;
O shkuet nIsmir, n Paris o nVenedik,
O der nt vorfnėn Cetin
E
me i her ndrruet; me i her filluet me than
Qi
na skemi njerzķ;
Qi
snderojm grat, qi dorėn sdijm me e dhan.
Qi
sdijm me ndej nshoqnķ !
Une
pra kam sa dit qi rrī ndhé thuej
E
smunden me e zan bes
Qi
t jen njerzī kto pun ; qi i thrras , ngjuh t huej :
Affectée
politesse.
Tkqyrim,
gjithsa mundohna, pėr Atdhé,
Mos
me marrue Shqipnķn;
Tmarrim
prej tjerve ēka tjen mir pėr né,
E
tlam mnjen ān teprķn.
E
ty, I Kosoves Shkrimtar, qi jé tuj krye
Mbi
gjuh shum zbukurime,
Tlutem mos me u-marzit e me pelqye
Nyi shndet prej zźmrės sime.
Luigj Gurakuqi
* Dedicated to MATI LOGORECI.
Story of a Pipe
On my mind you parade
Armed with guns and handguns
soldiers of the revolution.
But in this warm
evening of summer,
Myftar, the partisan who held
Gun and pipe,
I will remember with melancholy and emotion.
His pipe in the Ēeta *
was the only instrument we had.
And when at midnight around the fire
we heard him playing it sweetly
Under pale stars ,
he made us
a little anxious
And to our lovers and our brides
he lead us.
Oh, that pipe
of Myftar, mild and good,
carried us away,
when at midnight
we were around the fire
and the wood crackled.
But an evening
we did not hear
the sweet notes of the pipe
of the poor Myftar!
On the stones the player was fallen
and some still warm lead
had pierced
his pipe
and
his heart.
Dritėro Agolli
*
Ēeta is the name with which it was identified the albanian armed groups
that fought for freedom against the fascist occupiers.
Syrgjyn -
Vdekur
(
Elegy at the memory of Luigj
Gurakuqi, murdered in Bari )
Nėno moj, mbaj zi pėr
vllanė,
Me tre plumba na i ranė,
Na e vran' e na e shanė,
Na i thanė trathėtor.
Se tė deshte dhe
s'tė deshnin,
Se tė qante kur tė qeshnin,
Se tė veshte kur tė ēveshnin,
Nėno moj, tė ra dėshmor.
Nėno moj,
vajto, merr malin,
Larot t'a pėrmbysnė djalin
Qė me Ismail Qemalin
Ngriti flamur trimėror.
Nėno moj, m'a qaj nė Vlorė
Ku tė dha liri, kurorė,
Shpirt i bardhė si dėborė;
Ti s'i dhe as varr pėr hor.
Nėno moj,
ē'ėshtė pėrpjekur
Gojė-mjalt' e zėmėr-hekur,
Syrgjyn-gjall' e syrgjyn-vdekur,
Ky Vigan Liberator.
Fan Noli
---------------------------------------------------------
Hymni I Flamurit
O flamur gjak, o flamur shkabė,
O vėnd e vatr' o nėn' e babė,
Lagur me lot, djegur me flagė,
Flamur i kuq, flamur i zi.
Fortesė shkėmbi, tmerr tirani,
S'tė trėmp Romani, as Venecjani,
As sėrp Dushani, as turk Sulltani,
Flamur i math pėr Vegjėli.
Flamur qė lint Shėn Kostandinin,
Pajton Islamin e Krishtėrimin,
Ēpall midis feve vllazėrimin,
Flamur bujar pėr Njerėzi.
Me Skėnderben' u lavdėrove,
Dhe nė furtun' i funtmi u shove,
Me Malon prapė lart vrapove,
Yll i pavdekur pėr liri.
Sa shpesh pastaj pėrdhe u shtrive,
Me zjarr e zi u ndeze u nxive,
Po ēdo mizor me shpat' e grive,
O fushė-kuq, o shkabė-zi.
Pėrjetė pri-e Shqipėrinė,
Pėrlintja shpirtin dhe fuqinė,
Diell pėr vllan', yrnek pėr fqinė,
Pėr botėn ėndr' e qjell i ri.
Fan Noli
To the Albanian Eagle
On you the blue of the sky is spread
your companions are the stars, dazzling
diamonds, and embroider your wedding veil
now the bright splendid nights, adorn you
and by a God they are shared
with wisdom and harmony of art.
Quiet your reign, your goal
free will in the immense road:
And in the infinite spaces it cheers you
wonderful, of the stars the harmony,
and at the rising of
the moon
we hear the moved Muse sing.
But on desert campaigns, in the plain lands,
where your sons now are, falls to the ground
and with terrible whirlwind, roars
dreadfully the thunderbolt rumbles;
and over those peaks you never
heard the boomings, the laments, the troubles.
Please, come down again, golden eagle
here between us, as you came down
already, when triumphally on the forehead
of the great Kastriote you shone ,
when all earth trembled in the moment
he brandished his tremendous sword.
Under the cruel of Istanbul we are humbled
your sons moan
in chains;
A dog of Anatolia has imposed them
tears and troubles and ignominious plots
And Albania
never more dared to obstacle the way
Of its impetuous hordes.
In our native land , we are servants
Of the strangers, still between brothers
No land, no name we have
Neither that faith that once we had .
Now the Albanian in this unhappy day
sends its own daughters to the cruel, in holocaust.
In Kruja, the
hate of our grandfathers
Never submitted
to the bad luck,
When the Great Georges hurricane
treaded underfoot the falcated moon,
and excised members and leaders gathered water
in the raging
floods and the quick torrents.
The valiant soldiers fought for our motherland ;
then, the divine soldiers fought ,
the sword of Albania and the tumultuous
cries of war dispelled the enemies;
And the hills and the plain lands rumbled
under war horses that scattered sparkles .
Please , come down again, golden eagle
here between us, as you came down
already, when triumphally on the forehead
of the great Kastriote you shone ,
in order that every Barbarian would shiver,
fearing the sons that you hold in your womb, Albania.
Ndre Mjeda
MĖMĖDHEU
Mėmėdhe quetė toka Ku mė ka rėnurė koka, ku
kam dashur mėm e atė, ku
mė nje dhe gur i thatė, ku
kam pasurė shtėpinė, ku
kam njojtur Perėndinė, strėgjushėt
ku kanė qėnė, dhe
varret qi kanė vėnė, ku
jam rritur me thėrime, ku
kam folur gjunė time, ku
kam fis e ku kam farė, ku
kam qeshur, ku kam qarė, ku
rroj me gas e me shpresė, ku kam dėshirė tė vdesė.
A. Z. Ēajupi
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-----------------------------------
TRIMI SHQIPĖRISĖ
Kush ka qėnė trim njė herė?
Aleksandri Math i vjerė,
Pirua me shokė tė tjerė
Nė Shqipėri kanė lerė.
Po nga tė gjithė mi Zoti,
Skėnderbeu
Kastrioti.
O
mbret i dashur ku je?
Ku
je, more Skėnderbe?
Si
duron ti nėnė dhe?
Nukė
tė vjen keq pėr ne?
Qė
ditėnė qė na le,
vėndi
yn u bė raje!
Tė lutemi dit e natė,
natė jetė ku ke vatė,
dėrgona shpres e uratė
tė mos rrojėmė si gratė
Tė ngriemi tė lėftojmė,
Turqit kėtejė ti dbojmė,
Shqipėrinė ta shpėtojmė
Dhe lir e me nder tė rrojmė.
A. Z. Ēajupi
LUTJE
(
da KANGĖT E RINIS )
Tė lutem o perendi
Pėr njė simfonķ
Me tinguj targjantė
E
akorde tartė.
Tė lutem o perendi
Pėr njė simfonķ
Plot dashuni
Tė nxehtė si tu vasha gjtė
Kur vlojnė ndijesitė.
Tė lutem o perendi
Pėr njė simfonķ
Tė dėfrej nė lumnķ
Tu u pėrkundė nanķ
Tė bukur, tandrrimeve
Tė kaltėr, ku tė fantazmeve
Buzėt mė tėrheqin zjartė
E
mė digjen syt e flakėt.
Tė lutem o perendi
Pėr njė simfonķ
E
kurr, kurr mā mos tė zgjohemi.
Millosh Gjergj Nikolla called MIGJENI
-------------------------------------------
KANGA
QĖ SKUPTOHET
(
Melodisė Kombtare )
Uvdoh
kanga nga zemra e kombit,
shpertheu
nė vaj tė dikuem mjerimit,
kėndoi
ujen e sė bijės, kėndoj ujen e tė birit,
qau jeten e thyeme nga rrufe e fatit,
i mbyti nė lotė shpirtent qė ndjejnė dhimbė pėr tė ngratit.
Kangė
a vaj? Ēė je? Thuejma zemėr kombi!
Zemėr
qė ke vuejtun, qė endé po vuen
Kangė
a vaj? Ēė je? Ēė
nė ty po vluen?
Mallkimi
ndaj fatet qė ditėt tI helmuen,
Qė
dėshirat e jetės tė gjitha tI gozhduen?
Oh-jo!
Kanga jote asht shprehje e dhimbsun
E
njė jetese qė dergjet e dergjet
Dhe
tu u dergjė ndoshta do heshte molisun
MIGJENI
Cmendina
Me Porte Hapur
Po ikni, po na lini,
duke menduar; "Pergjithmone",
Nga ky dhe qe ishte juaji, joni,
qe eshte cmendina jone.
Cmendina jone e dashur, mallengjyese
me kafkat shqyese.
O te cmendurit e mi te shtrenjte,
sa ju dua,
megjithese kurre s'ju flas,
megjithese kurre s'me flisni
dhe dot s'ju duroj
dhe dot s'me duroni.
Por ky eshte rit:
ne nuk e shohim ne sy njeri-tjetrin
per pa urryer,
dhe ky eshte shkak
per t'u dashur gjer ne cmendim,
duke buzeqeshur ekzaltisht,
ndersa ne faqe
lotet na rjedhin,
lotet.
Bashkevuajtes te mi
qe ikni mergueshem,
te cmendines sone unikale,
me sy te fiksuar
pas nje ideje te vetme,
oh, vetem pas nje ideje te vetme,
qe askurre s'u pa, s'u gjend askund
dhe s'di ndonjehere ne ka per t'u gjetur.
Shperndahuni, ikni, tretuni.
Vend me vend shtet me shtet...
Oh, cfare piskame pisket
nga cmendina jone
ne oren e vone te perendimit,
kur malli e merr per bijte ne Perendim...
C'trishtim!
Mure te rrjepur..Mure qe gjithmone
kufizojne horizontin
per te lene nje qiell pa fund persiper.
Aty pas mesnate denesjet mbarojne,
dikush me vete po flet:
Sidoqofte shqiptarit,
kudo qe te ndodhet,
i mjafton marrezia e vet...
Mimoza Ahmeti
-------------------------------------
Mama
Dhe Bijte
Gjithmone e me ralle te shoh,
gjithmone e me teper
cuditem
si dola nga barku yt dhe ti je ime bije.
Sepse je e vogel, mama, e pafajshme
dhe lotet i ke te brishte e te rinj.
Ti qe u plake dhe qan si foshnje
kur duhet te gezohesh
e qe pikellimi te ndjek si urith
pikerisht kur liria hap nje shteg.
Po ti je e vogel, mama, e
pafajshme...
O zot, c'deshi nje njeri si ti
ne kete bote te sprovuar...
Ti akoma s'ke mesuar te genjesh,
e shtrenjte dhe duart i ke si dy
bonbone te vogla, te emblat duar, te sheqerta
nga lotet e tu.
Mireserdhe mama!
Ja shtepia, filaxhani i kafese dhe miresjellja ime
te serviret me kujdes, sofostike eshte, megjithate
ne mode...
Coje koken, perse qan?
Bijte e tu jane rritur tashme-
bisha sfiduese, s'i ndjek dot rreziku;
ty te duan
misheredhimbsur, mama,
nuk te harrojne,
me mire vdesin,
Ke dhe ti ne zemen e tyre nje dritare,
nje oval gezimi, drite e shprese,
sepse te tute ishin naivet,
si kuaj lufte, me syte e medhenj
ushqyer me ujera kroi.
I deshe fort, mama, sic dite i deshe,
i mallkove fort, mama, sa munde i mallkove,
me zerin qe e kishte si varg rruazash nbi gur...
Dikur...e mban mend, mama?
Ne shtepi kendoje,
ishe e re, e bukur
tani e kuptoj.
perendimi vdiste i lumtur per ate lloj kenge,
dhe syri yt i lumtur per ate lloj kenge,
dhe jeta ishte oganike, mama:
luanin kalamajte,
naivett qe ti i rite me delir horizonti...
Ja ku i ke perballe, te rrahur me jete e me sprove,
felligeshtia i ka vrare, por gjakun nuk ua ka sterpikur.
Jane te virgjer, mama, te perdalet e tu,
jane te virgjer,
lakuriq te pambrojtur, me gjithcka te fituar me
dhembe.
Mos i shaj, mama, se ben faj. Mos i truaj.
Te kane dashur, mama, te kane dashur.
I duaj. (Kurre prindi nuk mund te
mberrije dashurine efemijes.)
Kthehu, ece ne vete, mama,
mos qaj me.
Jane te fundit vjete te tute, ne
kete femijeri te dyte
mund te ngrohe pak dielli,
po t'i teresh syte.
Fshiji lotet, mama, jemi dermuar,
te buzeqeshesh pak, kjo eshte buke per ne.
O femija im i deshperuar,
mekati me i madh i perendise mbi dhe.
Mimoza Ahmeti
Tė dashurės Bukurķa tij tė nxijti Sitė e rrłdhurin kėshčt ; mosnjerķ nkak na tė glet, me sorós tė tha: po za. Te
dķ anėt tė volisė Pa-rrėfieme trandafile Tij, e hjčshmeza kopile, ftiriosura
tė lą. Kur
u leve ajņ tė puthi, E mbi buzėn tėnde ngjisi Kuqin bukur, ēė potisi Me
gjith tėmblit ēė mė kį. Hire
shumė tė dhuroi, Tė
dhuroi ngį lipisķ; Sį
shėrbise, ēė ti sdķ Bukurģeja
tė dha ! Kur
u rrite, e hjčshmja jime, Stisi
tij atņ dy molla, Tė
pėrsisme edhe tė holla, Ēė
tė mblojėn atė gjķ. Mua si njėngjėll ti mė duke, zėrthin ké i rrgjėndė, i lartė, e nga trim tė bunet jart, sa tė she; e mirė e dķ. Nik Krieshpģ Francesco Crispi from " Arbri i ri " ( The Young Albania ) year I , N. II , May 1887 |
TĖ FALJA KATUNDIT Gjith e veshur ndėr tė zeza Duall
njė vashė ka hora Vate
marrė uratėzėn Uratėn
e dheut tė tire. Pėrpokji mėnin e zi E kėputi degė tė fjetėm; Pėrpokji mollėn e kėputi Degėn me molla tė bardha; Mbjodh ljulje ndė prėhėrit; Prana u vuri ture klarė Prosopin e dheut tė tire: - O tė falja dheu inė, Tė faljem se mė tė ljė. E skam tė tė shoh u mė, Ne
kam dhe u ku tė vete; Pa
njė horė ku tė mėnoj, Pa
njė shpi te ku tė mbjidhem ! Kėto dega e kėto ljulje Veshken si tė tė jene larg Fare mallin dhe mė ncierr !
Arbėreshė poem ( Arbėreshė Albanian )
|
LAMTUMIRĖ
ATDHEUT Gjith e veshur ndė tė zeza Dolli nj vashė nga qyteti, Vajti tmarė uratėzėn Uratėn e dheut saj. Aty poq mėnin e zi Kputi
dėgėzen plot gjethe ; Poqi
mollėn dhe kėputi Degėn me molla tė bardha; Mblodhi lule nė prehėrin; Pastaj
u vu duke qarė Pėr
fatin e vėndit vet : -
Lamtėmirė
dheu im, T
pėrshėndes, se po tė le, E sdo tė shoh un ty mė, As
kam vėnd se ku tė vete; As
qytet ku tė vendosem, Pa
njė shpi te ku tė mbėlidhem ! Kėto deg e kėto lule Vyshken shpejt kur tė jen larg Nuk ma nxjerrin fare mallin !
Poezija Popullore Arbėreshė ( Modern Albanian )
|
I m waiting for the dawn
" May Phoebus with his raging chariot burst,
into your dark sky.
May the nature awaken,
and live again in the joy of its beams.
May the majestic eagle spread its wings
and reconquer the sky.
Mysterious,
Fleeing,
Albanian land.
Hell alternated to Heaven.
Eaglesnest ,
This is your name.
Mens nest ,
that freedom loved
more than any other thing.
This is your people.
In this stock lived
the dreams of the Illyrians,
of the Thracians and the Epirus,
the ambitions of Pyrrhus, Justinian,
of Kastriota.
But the black night came.
The deeper dark
and death dropped on you.
The anguished night
deprived you of the light .
And where there was a blooming field,
untilled withered thorn bush grew.
And where the waters of a
limpid stream flowed,
swamp had its reign.
From the East
where the veil of the night dropped,
a cloud come down to deprive you of the sight.
The wind of the East conquered you
And cut you to pieces,
pulling down also the only true things
that still were there.
An abysmal oblivion wraps you,
all around you
collapses in the depth of time.
The body lethargy ,
the spirit death .
The ideals, the promises, the hopes
that once supported you
now show their true colours,
vain flatteries,
supreme illusions,
mirages in the desert of life.
The naked truth overwhelmed you,
And slapped your trembling
face.
Today and again.
Come back spring,
harmony of colours
and of sounds.
So that she could invite you
to believe again
to live again
to hold high your head,
for so much time bent .
The blood flows
faster in the veins
and everything seems possible again.
Im waiting for the dawn.
When youll be able to
Dream again,
beautiful moment
of happiness,
unfortunately just a moment.
You let yourself slip,
into the sea,
I wish you bon
voyage.
Im waiting for the dawn
When youll be able to hope again. "
Thomis
-------------------------------------
Tė Fala (Goodbye)
I have looked for you.
I have looked for you for so long.
I have looked for you in my dreams,
hidden in the womb
of this pitiless sea,
sweetly cradled
in the shade of bright eagle wings .
I have looked for you,
my illusion
and my everlasting fear.
I have invoked you,
my solitude.
I have looked for you,
anger after the defeat,
sand that slips between the fingers.
I have looked for you,
Sliver thrown
towards hope,
hollow face,
delicate
flower of alabaster.
I have found you
Childs smile
Boys fantasy,
old mans tear.
I have found you
Mounts roughness,
Velvet silence,
distant songs echo.
I have looked for you
lost word,
never lived memory,
my own blood.
As the joy of victory,
Now I want to look for you,
with salts lips
and without fears,
empty,
suspended
between the wall and the freedom to jump
past and present
now
taken by the hand
by the thousand poems
written into your eyes,
always
bare
and
distant.
Tė fala.
Thomis
---------------------------------------------------
Before the morning comes
You come nearer
Black-eyed girl.
Sleek, dark
loose hairs
slip,
dance,
upon your lips.
Your glance
bends,
cleaves,
tears the darkness
to pieces.
Snow-white,
Motionless,
Marble goddess
Stabbed by hope.
The waves
Give back
Lost words...
Deti,
ėndėr,
liri.
I will be
the charmed
prisoner
of your illusion.
Tė dhua
and I'll love you
till your last glance,
before you go,
before the morning
comes,
because ndaj
natė
In the night, you
crystal veiled
moon,
reflect
mild brightness
and
show me,
suffused,
pale
glimmerings
of dawn.
Thomis