Shadow's Writing Poem by Riza Braholli

Zimo KRUTAJ

Oh, I still have the desire to live
Shadow's writing I don't want to retain…
But tidings of war say: at the seashore
A pallid child's face showed up again.

Wanted to be a poet of the new century
With the scent of rain to write about peace…
But the writing of darkness this child begs,
About the anti-man that cuts man apiece.

This child brings high tide for my verses
A chronical for unnamed graves that float;
So I must turn toward the shadow's writing,
Back into the black holes once in heart to quote.

Why did we nail in memory Auschwitz
When like volcanic lava, we raise a shadow?
How could Hiroshima mushrooms sprout
On a Land where milk and honey did flow…! ?

Calamities I hear aren't waterfall voices
But deep yowls coming from infant bowel;
This long groaning like a remoteness echo
To shadow's writing has turned us all.

We can not say: we are giving a hand,
And ruin bridges ourselves have built;
When the other hand flings into darkness
Other bodies immature angels to jilt.

If you are Lord of War or a greedy devil:
I believed shadow's writing was over;
Today I'm afraid the sea throws on land
The pallid face of our darkened future...

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Translation from Albanian into English
by Alfred Kola
Korçë, October 21,2017