Blesok no. 96, May-June, 2014
Poetry


Awaking in Third Person Singular
Translated by the author

D.A. Lori



Sticky Words


We rarely say what hasn’t been said before
It breaks my heart and tongue.
Just as I was about to analyze
                          the anatomy of words,
                          My mind stopped under the pressure
                          of other people’s lines

There was nothing but the sky before
and not a bit has changed since

I’m looking at it…

A big lazy centipede of a cloud
Is about to swallow my favourite star
This pale blue sky in endless rebirth
Brings more than I can bear
The heat makes my senses loose
The air is filled with sticky thoughts,
Sticky fingers around a sticky pen,
Sticky, sticky words




Imperfection


Desire comes first, it takes us.
Up…Infinity and hope.
Down…An abyss of unfulfilled wishes.
We want a hand to take us
And a giant eye to see us,
A smile to cheer us up,
A tour around the center.

Desire calls for love.
Two people holding each other’s hands.
Looking at each other, their eyes glitter,
Drowning in each other’s smiles,
They become the center of life.

Yet, how terrifying to watch
My body with your face,
Your face with my smile,
My words among yours,
Your love swallowing mine,
My colours drawing your paintings,
Your moves becoming my moves.

Giving and sharing means sacrifice,
Losing yourself means sin.
What are we closer to
when we piece together?
Torn between loneliness and hope,
Living between love and hate,
Standing between hesitation and decision,
We compensate for our imperfection.




Seeking knowledge


When you seek knowledge
It finds you, you don’t find it.
It makes a secret path
And comes to you
Like a blessing, like a sadist,
Like a comforting mother,
A rapist, a tirane, a nurse

And sometimes, it’s an embellishment,
And sometimes it’s a scar.
Sometimes you take it out on the stage,
Sometimes you hide it in the darkest of holes
And make it as silent as a stone.

Knowledge, dear, knowledge-
Tamed words and raging thoughts.




Womanity


When we are young,
When we are little girls,
We climb the trees, we play hide and seek,
We don’t have balls, but we have dolls
It’s not a problem if we’re girls or boys
As long as we share our toys.

When we grow up
We get the balls, we lose the dolls,
Release the braids and ponytails
and wait for a good wind.
And then we get a bit older.
We become a mother or a woman,
or if we are lucky, both.

When we grow old,
we look more like a father.
Our breasts flatten and rest,
we grow quite unwanted moustaches,
very thin hair and a shiny scalp.
We, men and women,
do become equal, eventually.




Odd and Distant


We all possess an odd face,
Mine is a pale one under a dim light
With freckles and tight nostrils
And eyes, half-closed, never wide-opened,
And a mouth with a tip of a tongue at its corner,
My odd face is always set on a thought,
And many-so-often, it’s a long one,
And it stops hiding, so you ask
“What’s the matter?”,
And I have to grow distant,
So you won’t see it.
But you never stop asking,
You push your face into mine,
You look deep inside,
All deafened by my sigh
And there is nothing I can do about it
So I confess and leave in grief.




Take Me


Take it, take it away
This distance between us
This wall I’m surrounded with
All the lines and signs on the map

Make them disappear

Take it, take it all!
The power off my hands
The stammer off my mind
The essence off me

I want it all gone

Take me…Take me!
Before time dismantles me
Before I’m scattered
all over and above
Before I let myself down

Come, take everything.




Too late


It’s too late now darling
We’ve slid away from each other
Like a baby slides away from the womb,
We’ve moved to the opposite sides of the door,
Building an entire continent between us,
Avoiding roads to be made and paths to be invented.

It’s too late, you know,
Even the birds have fallen asleep,
And the wind has hidden itself inside a tree
The water has stopped by the shores to rest
Would we dare to disturb nature’s  peace and quiet
And cause an earthquake to destroy this rock of buried memories?

No, dear, it’s too late,
We’re a patient in a coma
Hoping for a flat line




Why and How


What are all these faces,
I’ve read them before?
Where are all these places?
Don’t show them any more
How blind can we be,
how little can we see?

I raise my eyes to “Forever”
My hand stops at “Wherever”

Your silent breath trapped
Your words selfishly kept
In the eternal “Why” and “Why not”
What’s pain to you
Can’t you feel something new?
Just words beyond words
And a feeling here and there
And all those words again
Catching thoughts in vain

All the lines I’m losing now
Just to ask why and how




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