Dritero Agolli
Enderr E Prere
Shqip1.
Mos vdis, se pas shirave aren e mbushi bari,
Ka rene ne ullishte mize e ullirit.
Hardhia duhet sperkatur shpejt me gurkali
Dhe ende s’ka dale nga plisi kercelli i misrit
Ne enderronim te benim nje anije,
Kurkush s’e mendonte me ç’dru do ta ngrinim,
Kishim ndermend ta ndertonim me dege hardhie
Dhe vela t’i vinim.
Bodrumet e saj t’i mbushnim me poçe me vere
Dhe te lundronim ne ishujt e Havajes;
Ta pinim veren me vajzat e ishujve ne Belvedere,
Zezaku te bente fresk me fleten e palmes.
2.
Mos vdis se kalit i ra ne vrapim nje patkua
Dhe nisi ta ngreje nga dhimbja kemben e pare;
Kerkojme patkonj e s’na jep njeri hua,
S’e gjejme as nallbanin e marre.
Ne enderronim te shkonim ne hipodrome,
ne vende te lumtura ku munden me kuaj,
Tani dhe kali calon e s’na ha as barin e njome;
me sy si gota na sheh si te huaj…
3.
Mos vdis, se dielli ne oborr e ka shtruar sofren e madhe
Dhe presim te vijne vajzat te gjitha,
Te gjitha ato qe ti u thoshje "sorkadheve",
Kur grisnin fustanet ne driza.
4.
Mos vdis ne dhomen e heshtur i shtrire
Eshte turp kaq shpejt te rrish e te vdesesh!
Ne enderronim nje vdekje me te mire:
Duke vdekur, fytyrat tona ti shihnim ne piken e veses.
Mos vdis, se pas shirave aren e mbushi bari,
Ka rene ne ullishte mize e ullirit.
Hardhia duhet sperkatur shpejt me gurkali
Dhe ende s’ka dale nga plisi kercelli i misrit
Ne enderronim te benim nje anije,
Kurkush s’e mendonte me ç’dru do ta ngrinim,
Kishim ndermend ta ndertonim me dege hardhie
Dhe vela t’i vinim.
Bodrumet e saj t’i mbushnim me poçe me vere
Dhe te lundronim ne ishujt e Havajes;
Ta pinim veren me vajzat e ishujve ne Belvedere,
Zezaku te bente fresk me fleten e palmes.
2.
Mos vdis se kalit i ra ne vrapim nje patkua
Dhe nisi ta ngreje nga dhimbja kemben e pare;
Kerkojme patkonj e s’na jep njeri hua,
S’e gjejme as nallbanin e marre.
Ne enderronim te shkonim ne hipodrome,
ne vende te lumtura ku munden me kuaj,
Tani dhe kali calon e s’na ha as barin e njome;
me sy si gota na sheh si te huaj…
3.
Mos vdis, se dielli ne oborr e ka shtruar sofren e madhe
Dhe presim te vijne vajzat te gjitha,
Te gjitha ato qe ti u thoshje "sorkadheve",
Kur grisnin fustanet ne driza.
4.
Mos vdis ne dhomen e heshtur i shtrire
Eshte turp kaq shpejt te rrish e te vdesesh!
Ne enderronim nje vdekje me te mire:
Duke vdekur, fytyrat tona ti shihnim ne piken e veses.
Broken Dream
AnglishtDo not die, for after the rains, the field is lush with grass,
A fly of the olive tree has fallen to the orchard.
The vine must be quickly watered with its stone,
And the stalk of corn is still hidden beneath its husk.
We dreamed of building a ship,
No one thought of what wood we would use,
We intended to craft it from vine branches,
And to raise its sails.
We would fill its hold with barrels of wine,
And sail to the islands of Hawaii;
We’d drink wine with the girls from the islands in Belvedere,
While the black man cooled us with a palm leaf.
Do not die, for the horse lost a horseshoe in its gallop,
And began to lift its first leg in pain;
We sought a new shoe but none would lend us one,
We couldn’t even find the reckless blacksmith.
We dreamed of going to the racetrack,
To places of joy where horses could run,
Now the horse limps and won’t even eat the fresh grass;
With eyes like glass, it looks at us like strangers…
Do not die, for the sun has spread a great table in the yard,
And we await the arrival of all the girls,
All those you used to call "little fawns,"
As they tore their dresses on the brambles.
Do not die, lying in that silent room,
It’s a shame to lie and die so soon!
We dreamed of a better death:
In dying, we would see our faces in the dew drop.
A fly of the olive tree has fallen to the orchard.
The vine must be quickly watered with its stone,
And the stalk of corn is still hidden beneath its husk.
We dreamed of building a ship,
No one thought of what wood we would use,
We intended to craft it from vine branches,
And to raise its sails.
We would fill its hold with barrels of wine,
And sail to the islands of Hawaii;
We’d drink wine with the girls from the islands in Belvedere,
While the black man cooled us with a palm leaf.
Do not die, for the horse lost a horseshoe in its gallop,
And began to lift its first leg in pain;
We sought a new shoe but none would lend us one,
We couldn’t even find the reckless blacksmith.
We dreamed of going to the racetrack,
To places of joy where horses could run,
Now the horse limps and won’t even eat the fresh grass;
With eyes like glass, it looks at us like strangers…
Do not die, for the sun has spread a great table in the yard,
And we await the arrival of all the girls,
All those you used to call "little fawns,"
As they tore their dresses on the brambles.
Do not die, lying in that silent room,
It’s a shame to lie and die so soon!
We dreamed of a better death:
In dying, we would see our faces in the dew drop.
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