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On the 80th anniversary of the birth of poet Xhevahir Spahiu, Alfapress.al brings you a bouquet of his wonderful poems!
2025-03-01 14:07:21 / JETË
Today is the 80th anniversary of the birth of one of the best poets of Albanian literature, Xhevahir Spahiu.
For his valuable contribution to the field of poetry, the Alfapress.al staff is bringing to attention some of his wonderful poems, wishing our poet health, life, prosperous creativity and heartfelt thanks!
MY DEBTS
I will die,
I will die drowned in debt,
drowning in the river is nothing, or in the gas chambers.
I owe my mother for not building her grave,
I owe the oak tree for not throwing away the pergola,
I owe the love I stole from her on Sunday,
I owe the crime I didn't name.
I will die,
I will die drowned in debt.
I owe the word that I did not see in my dream,
I owe the raven that I did not whiten its feathers,
I owe the year '13 that I did not heal its wounds,
I owe the future that I left
the darkness of a distant time at its doorstep.
I will die,
I will die drowned in debt.
I owe the living,
I owe the dead;
I will sell the tombstone
to pay off the debts.
And I'll put the point here.
Now you can talk
about the debts you owe me.
A FIRE BURNS IN THE AUTUMN FOREST
In the autumn forests, you lit fires,
in my heart you lit a fire;
but something thundered high in the mountains
, and from the thunder rain flowed.
And a wind blew and the white winter
spread its wings to us;
the trees trembled, the leaves fell
like pieces of fire onto the road.
Both leaning against a cloud
Both, two eyes on the universe;
I fall, I rise inside you
and inside me you burn.
As it comes, it drives away loneliness and the lazy
as it goes, loneliness speaks nonsense;
archaeologists will not say about us
statues that were not lucky.
In the forests, autumn lit fires,
the storks flew away, I don't know where;
a mad wind will blow over the ashes
when there is none left.
MEETING ON DECEMBER 31
At the border between the years,
for those that have passed,
for those that will come,
the thought lingers.
You who appeared to me in the white December,
I don't know where to put you, I don't know!
It was the last afternoon of a year that was passing.
The Vlora clock was ticking with
trembling exchanges of glances.
Whatever future celebrations may be,
these will remain
unrepeatable.
And I, at the border between the years,
cut off by a question like this sky with lightning:
Where should I put you,
in those that are gone,
or in those that are coming?
TO BE WITH YOU
To touch your silence as one touches an object,
to look deep into those eyes,
where love is lost like a ship
and not want to be with you forever?
To walk with your arm on your shoulders
and forget the blue sound,
the lemons above your head,
the fishing boats like fires in the night?
To be with you,
to laugh with you
and not understand how the sea tries
to come out of its own shell?
To be with you?
To be with you!
I LIVE INSIDE YOUR EYES
I live inside your eyes,
in my eyes you have a home.
We are not ourselves
, each is the other.
My summer has two ends:
one in spring, the other in your autumn.
You enter my yesterday ,
losing your way like someone who has lost his memory.
I enter your future,
losing your way like someone who has never been through the forest.
How much you wish you had my yesterday in your hands!
How much I wish I had your future in my hands!
Who should I ask? Which star? What time?
For my yesterday you can ask a river,
two oaks, a bull,
even the grave,
the grave of my mother.
All in vain.
Let's leave the questions. Let the questions take a nap.
Tonight we are only today.
INFINITY
Beyond the blue mountains is the sea,
beyond the days to come is that,
I feel it,
I feel it,
I feel it.
the beauty of everything I don't see./ Alfapress.al
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