Ali PODRIMJA poetry

Take this stone

Take this stone and cast it

Wherever you wish

             If you wish

Beyond my thread and tribe

Beyond the nine wounds

             of Gjergj Elez Alia

Nail it if you wish

             wall it in

            Take this stone

Baptize it or leave it nameless

I have changed the time, the climate

Leave it without land, without sky

Take this stone and cast it

Wherever you wish

Its strength makes us immortal

[Merreni këtë guri, from the volume Credo, Prishtina: Rilindja 1976, translated from the Albanian by Robert Elsie, first published in English in Who will slay the wolf. Selected poetry by Ali Podrimja, New York, Gjonlekaj Publishing 2000, p. 69]

Song of freedom

Everything about you, your birth

And your step Lumi

My security in life

Listen to the ancient flute

An eerie beast is sniffing about

In Europe

Many a song is sung

But only one song never ends

The song of freedom

[Kënga e lirisë, from the volume Lum Lumi, Prishtina: Rilindja 1982, translated from the Albanian by Robert Elsie, first published in English in Who will slay the wolf. Selected poetry by Ali Podrimja, New York, Gjonlekaj Publishing 2000, p. 111]

Paris, native land

We'll go to Paris

There we shall lay our stone

Teuta, Genti will not be expecting us

The savage Roman hordes will not be expecting us

No one will be expecting us

To Paris we shall go

We shall hang our dreams on stork wings

At a fountain we shall wash our eyes, our wart-covered hands

We shall leave the Balkan nights behind us

             the dances, the songs, the ballads, the tales

The flute alone we shall take with us

To play whenever we are homesick

             when we get lost in the crowds of drunks

             in the shadows

             amongst the rats

Late at night in the streets of Paris in the frantic metro

We shall smell the fragrance of the quince from our native land

With our fingers we will talk of vile times

We shall not step on any ants

We shall not frighten any birds

We shall vent neither hellfire nor spleen

             upon the head of man

We shall not bow to a torpid Europe

             nor to any deranged gods

Promise me Lum Lumi

That we will not forget our native land

(Paris 1981)

[Parisi, vendlindja, from the volume Lum Lumi, Prishtina: Rilindja 1982, translated from the Albanian by Robert Elsie, first published in English in Who will slay the wolf. Selected poetry by Ali Podrimja, New York, Gjonlekaj Publishing 2000, p. 125]

And you dead

It was summer

Overhead the sun

Shadows, you around Europe

From that horrible journey

You returned one day with eyes wide open

You entered your father's poem without knocking

There you are in safety Lumi

I swear no harm

Will come to you

It was summer

The sun in the west

And you dead, earth

[E ti i vdekur, from the volume Lum Lumi, Prishtina: Rilindja 1982, translated from the Albanian by Robert Elsie, first published in English in Who will slay the wolf. Selected poetry by Ali Podrimja, New York, Gjonlekaj Publishing 2000, p. 135]

Agony

I don't know why I long for Skopje

Now that Lumi is no longer there

And Baci Bajram no longer descends the Kaçaniku Gorge

I don't know why

I plunge my hands deep into the waters of the Vardar

And black out

I don't know why I stumble and fall

With the rain battering down upon me

Until I lock myself in my room

I don't know why

I really don't know why

Skopje causes me such anguish

[Rektime, from the volume Fund i gezuar, Prishtina: Rilindja 1988, translated from the Albanian by Robert Elsie, first published in English in Who will slay the wolf. Selected poetry by Ali Podrimja, New York, Gjonlekaj Publishing 2000, p. 181]

It is the Albanian's fault

It is the Albanian's fault

That he breathes

And walks on two legs

That I take tranquillizers

And swat flies all day

In the Toilet

It is the Albanian's fault

That he besmirches your wife

And frightens my family

That my hand cannot reach the apple

On the highest branch

That he has filled the Well with dead words

It is the Albanian's fault

That not more of Turkey exists,

More of America of Norway

            That the Gulag is so far away

That they chose me and sent me

To sniff him out

Does death smell

It is all the more the Albanian's fault

That he does not eat

Or close his eyes and sleep

That our sewers are broken

And the Catacombs of the Balkans

Have fallen into ruins

It is the Albanian's fault

That he whiles away the time under the moon

And breaks windows and stirs up muddy water

That he speaks Albanian that he eats Albanian

             that he shits Albanian

It is the Albanian's fault

The Albanian is the one at fault

For all my undoings

Both for my broken tooth

And for my frozen smile

So therefore: BULLET

Ha ha ha

Ha ha

Ha

May God have mercy!

[Fajtor është shqiptari, from the volume Fund i gezuar, Prishtina: Rilindja 1988, translated from the Albanian by Robert Elsie, first published in English in Who will slay the wolf. Selected poetry by Ali Podrimja, New York, Gjonlekaj Publishing 2000, p. 193]

If

If a people

Have no poets

And no poetry of their own

For a National Anthology

Then treachery and barking

Will do the trick

[Nëse, from the volume Fund i gezuar, Prishtina: Rilindja 1988, translated from the Albanian by Robert Elsie, first published in English in Who will slay the wolf. Selected poetry by Ali Podrimja, New York, Gjonlekaj Publishing 2000, p. 197]

Who will slay the wolf

            for F. Altimari

And the gentleman said

Should you happen to come upon

An Albanian and a wolf

Slay the Albanian

When the Albanian heard the saying

He smiled

And rolled himself a cigarette

If you slay me

             my poor friend

Who will slay

The wolf

Poor herds

(Cosenza 1988)

[Kush do ta vrasë ujkin, from the volume Zari, Prishtina: Rilindja 1990, translated from the Albanian by Robert Elsie, first published in English in Who will slay the wolf. Selected poetry by Ali Podrimja, New York, Gjonlekaj Publishing 2000, p. 211]

When will you speak out, Ali Podrimja

The star goes out with a bang

You look us in the eye and gulp

Never do you turn your back on us, Ali Podrimja

You sit out there in the cold and remain silent for years

             you still believe

             in mankind

They counterfeit your name

             your family name signature date of birth

             mother's name father's name place of birth

                         of your ancestors

             childhood tales dances games

             heroes songs laments celebrations

They make fun

             of your ancient language your people

             and spew torrents of abuse

And you remain silent, Ali Podrimja

             you still believe

             in mankind

In sombre vaults in mediaeval cellars

             strange concoctions appellations ruins curses

             barking pursuits arrests

             the savage hunt

Candles and incense are lit are quenched the words the bodies

                         the reservations drop away

             the children take flight under the wings of fate

             a Woman weaves and tears up the fabric

             in a paper Tower

In the sky overhead loom shadows crows ravens

             you comb golden locks

             with a handful of earth in your lap

             you set off for distant lands

In the fashionable part of Europe you are an Albanais

In Italy an Arbëresh in Greece an Arvanitas

In Turkey elhamdulillah an Arnaut

In America canned meat

             and nothing else

             nothing else

Who knows how many languages your God speaks

And you remain silent Ali Podrimja

             you still believe

             in mankind

But but

When will you speak out good man

Or must you first be born

Why does the moss cover your roof

[Kur do të flasesh o Ali Podrimja, from the volume Zari, Prishtina: Rilindja 1990, translated from the Albanian by Robert Elsie, first published in English in Who will slay the wolf. Selected poetry by Ali Podrimja, New York, Gjonlekaj Publishing 2000, p. 229]

Or, or

Should you long

             to see Albanians

Go down to the train station in a big city

Worn-out shoes they wear

And white socks

Or or

On Marienplatz or at the Eiffel Tower

             just whistle a heroic tune

Into a circle you go

             there you have them all those rigid faces

But do not be frightened off

For solitude can make you sick

That awesome brutality of cement

(Munich, 18 April 1992)

[Ose,ose, from the volume Buzëqeshje në kafaz, Tirana, Lidhja e Shkrimtarëve 1993, translated from the Albanian by Robert Elsie, first published in English in Who will slay the wolf. Selected poetry by Ali Podrimja, New York, Gjonlekaj Publishing 2000, p. 243]

Wandering with wolves

Wandering with wolves is more than interesting

When you set off for the Forest

You discover your real face

The journey may take longer than you have years

             it can happen

             that you gallop right through it

He who has not made the journey with them

Knows not what freedom is

Or the shirt of the stars

You must be aware

Without losing an arm or an eye

You cannot open the door easily

Nothing

Falls

From heaven

(Feldafing, 6 June 1992)

[Udhëtimi me ujq, from the volume Buzëqeshje në kafaz, Tirana, Lidhja e Shkrimtarëve 1993, translated from the Albanian by Robert Elsie, first published in English in Who will slay the wolf. Selected poetry by Ali Podrimja, New York, Gjonlekaj Publishing 2000, p. 255]