Sejfullah MALËSHOVA
POETRY
How I Love Albania
I've no farm estates or manors,
I've no shops or lofty buildings,
Yet I love my land, Albania -
For a barn in Trebeshina,
For its boulders and its brushwood,
For a hut above Selishta,
For two fields ploughed in Zallishta,
For a cow and for a donkey,
For an ox, a little lambkin,
This
is how I love my country
Like
a shepherd, like a peasant.
Yes, I love my land, Albania,
For the clover in its meadows,
For a quick and agile maiden,
For its spring of water gurgling
From the cliffs and flowing swiftly
Through the leafy oak tree forests,
Tumbling down to form a river,
Yes, I love my land, Albania,
For the fenugreek in blossom,
For the birds that fly above it,
For the nightingales a-singing,
In the shade and in the brambles,
Trilling songs of love and longing,
This
is how I love my country,
Like
a poet in devotion.
Yes, I love my land, Albania,
Right from Korça to Vranina,
Where the farmer sets off early
With his hoe and plough a-toiling,
Sows and reaps by sun and moonlight,
Yet, he has no food to live on,
Where the farrier and saddler
Day and night stoop o'er their duties
Just to get a few stale breadcrumbs,
Where the porter at the dockyards,
Laden down with iron and barrels,
Bears his load, barefoot and ragged,
Always serving other people.
Yes, I love my land, Albania,
Right from Skopje to Janina,
Where its people in misfortune
Suffer, live their lives in serfdom,
Yet they have a fighting spirit -
This
is how I love my country,
Like
a revolutionary.
(1939)
[Si e dua Shqipërinë,
from the volume Vjersha, Tirana 1945, p. 18-19. Translated
from the Albanian by Robert Elsie]
Rebel Poet
Listen to me, men and women,
Everywhere,
There's an warrant out to snare me
from
Tiranë.
Over hill and over dale and
in
the fields,
Their patrols are right behind me
step
by step.
I fear not their hunting dogs and
all
their guns,
I am off and make my journey
path
by path,
I am off and will find shelter
house
by house,
Everywhere in this, my country,
I've
my lair.
I'm a thug and I'm a rebel
and
I'm proud,
Both the beys and, yes, their thrones I
will
attack.
I have come to do my job,
protect
the poor,
And a war on slavery have I
now
declared.
* * *
Who have raised their guns against me?
let
me know!
Who's behind me, searching for my
every
trace?
Stop a while and listen to me,
soldier
boy,
Are you not a peasant's son, a
village
lad?
Bide a bit and listen to me,
brother
mine,
Hold your pace and save your bullet
For
those men,
For the ones who rob, oppress our
piteous
home,
For the ones who here exhaust us
in
our plight.
And my poems may, too, resemble
me,
a thug,
For my lines with black gunpowder
have
I filled.
Songs of war and songs of fire
in
my mouth,
And a storehouse full of weapons
is
my chest,
Verse, my verse, fly off in fury
like
a bomb,
Go and furl out like a war cry,
like
a flag,
Let our country's people gather
everywhere,
Let the tyrant tremble, quiver
in
his hall.
To your feet arise, oh Korça,
matriarch,
With Devoll and with Kolonja,
with
Opar.
Come forth now, oh Vlora river,
banner
high,
As you'd come to pick your bride up
in
her veil,
To the vanguard like Gjoleka,
Kurvelesh,
Beat upon them, Chameria,
like
a storm.
Like an earthquake may you bellow,
Mount
Tomorr,
May the waves of Shkumbin river
seethe
and boil.
Rise up, people, like a lion,
Cast
the yoke,
In Berat and in Tirana,
Elbasan,
And you, Mat, Luma and Dibra,
like
the wind,
Seize your arms and for your freedom
take
to war,
Moan and groan, oh wretched Shkodra,
ancient
town,
Come along, arise Kosova,
join
the dance,
With Krasniqi, Bajram Curri
and
Tetovë.
Let our country's people gather
everywhere,
Let the tyrant tremble, quiver
in
his hall.
Verse, my verse, fly off in fury
like
a bomb,
Go and furl out like a war cry,
like
a flag.
(1935)
[Poeti rebel, from the volume
Vjersha, Tirana 1945, p. 13-16. Translated from the Albanian
by Robert Elsie] |
Albanian Literature in Translation
Classical
Authors (19th - early 20th centuries)
