Dissident Websites




more albanian pages

 

POETRY

poems of the month

fish

vagabondage

measuring my face

ostracism

old clothes

modern iranian poems

my hero

face at the bottom of the world

perhaps (maybe)

the diogenes sequence

where to store furs

i am and am not:
      fragments of rumi

destiny and destination

the zen of no-enlightenment

the iraqi monologues

already backwards

a light in ruins

separate amputations

the sexy jihad

awaiting the barbarians

the smell of possibilities

ultimate leaves

rejoice in the dog

post-millennium maggot

the book of nothing

dispatches from the war against the world

albanian poems

french poems in honour of jean genet

the hells going on

the joy of suicide

book disease

foreground trouble

the transcendental hotel

cinema of the blind

lament of the earth mother

uranian poems

haikai by okami

haikai on the edge

black hole of your heart

jung's motel

leda and the swan

confession from belgrade

gloss on rilke's
ninth duino elegy

jewels and shit:
poems by rimbaud

villon's dialogue with his heart

vasko popa:
a shepherd of wolves ?

the rubáiyát of omar khayyám

genrikh sapgir:
an ironic mystic

the love of pierre de ronsard

imagepoem

 

TRANSLATIONS

 

BETWEEN POETRY AND PROSE

good riddance to mankind

the maxims of michel de montaigne

400 revolutionary maxims

nice men and
  suicide of an alien

anti-fairy tales

the most terrible event in history

the rich man and the leper

disgusting

art, truth and bafflement

 

SHORT STORIES

godpieces

the three bears

three albanian tales

odorous underwear

a little creation story

 

ESSAYS & MEMOIRS

a curious and peculiar
kind of queer

the ivory palace

helen's tower

schopenhauer for muthafuckas

are doctors autistic ?

single track in the snow

never a pygmy

against money

did franco die ?

'original sin' followed by
crippled consciousness

a gay man's guide to soft-willy sex

the holosensual alternative

tiger wine

the death of poetry

the absinthe drinker

with mrs dalloway in ukraine

love  and  hell

masturbation

running on emptiness

a holocaust near you

a note on the cathars

happiness

londons of the mind
& dealing death to the caspian

genocide

a muezzin from the tower of darkness

kegan and kagan

being or television

satan in the groin

womb of half-fogged mirrors

tourism and terrorism

the dog from sinope

shoplifting
in britain & america

this sorry scheme of things

the bektashi dervishes

a holy dog
& a dog-headed saint

fools for nothingness

death of a bestseller

vacuum of desire: a homo-erotic correspondence

a note on beards

translation and the oulipo

 

PHOTOGRAPHS

prelude



Nuadú, God of War

field guide to megalithic ireland

houses for the dead

ireland & the phallic continuum

the sheela-na-gig conundrum

french megaliths

a small town in france

 

western values


the problems of translating poetry

an albanian ikon ?

albanian donkeys

the bektashi dervishes

poems by ujko BYK

albanian love-poems

albanian poems of dissidence

albanian poems of exile

recent albanian poems

albanian emigration

beyond the albanian experience

migjeni

horatio morpurgo's albanian trip

albanian short stories

map of albania


the dictator's library

 

 

 

a canadian-albanian film

about the "sworn virgins" of northern albania

Filmi kanadezo-shqiptar, Gruaja pa krahë'
sapo ka fituar çmimin e argjendtë ‘Remi Award',
si pjesëmarrës në ‘Houston Worldfest 2003' në Teksas.

 

 

 

 

 

this site only

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ALBANIAN POEMS

by

UJKO BYK

translated by Anthony Weir


The Albanian coast seen from northern Corfu.

 

 

DHE JETES I AFROHET FUNDI
AND LIFE APPROACHES ITS END

Ikë e ikë
On and on
Kënga e Mukës
The same old tale:
Muri luan
A wall may give way
Burri s'luan
A man may not
Bota vuan.
The world suffers on.

 

 

DERI VONË
TILL LATE

Ndaj të gdhirë

Towards the dawn

Pa natën

Nightless

Me lajmet

With news

Ato biseduan për "pushimet"

They talked about "the holidays"

Kjo dhuratë është për ty

This present is for you

Që te zhvillosh

To develop

Me anë të vetëvrasjes

Through suicide

Sic kane thene njerezie e mencur: permasat nuk kane rendesi.
As the wise have said, size doesn't matter.

Nuk jam as në toke dhe as në qiell.
I am neither on the earth nor in the sky.

Kliko këtu për versionin e mikpritjes.
Click here for hospitable version
.

 

 

BÓTA GABON
THE WORLD MAKES MISTAKES

Së rishmi

Once again

Sidomos nesër

Especially tomorrow

Në vend të autopsikografisë     In lieu of autopsychography

 

Pézull

Adrift

Fjala e fundit e botës.

The world's last word.

Shkruaj në shenjë:

Write to me as a sign:

Gjuha shqipe nuk është aq e vështirë.

Albanian isn't that difficult a language

 

 

SADO-NGADO
ADVERBS

SHKATËRROJ   I unravel, I destroy

Fatkeqësisht

Unluckily

Rrëmbimthi

Drivenly

Barkazi

Crawlingly

Fshehtazi

Secretly

Gjerësisht

Lengthily

Majtazi

On the left

Djathtazi

On the right

Me të eger

Wildly

Kalimthi

In passing

Dita-ditës

Day by day

Parreshtur

Non-stop

Nga viti në vit

From year to year

Paqençe

Undoglike

Ngado

Anywhere

Sado

No matter how

 

 

VARG VERSE

Urdhëro ?

What can I do for you ?

Krejt:

Everything:

Më pëlqen jetëshkrim...

I like biography...

Porosit patjetër

Order by any means

Shpejt

Quickly

Zarfa...

Envelopes...

Një kilo kumbulla

A kilo of plums

Raki, zhvillim

Raki, development

Vetëvrasje...

Suicide...

Por s'ka gjë...

But it doesn't matter...

Vërtet...

Really...

 

 

LAKURIQËSI NAKEDNESS

Për bukurí, nuk është për turp
Beautifully, not shamefully

Ëmbëlsisht, rrëmbimthi
Sweetly, impulsively

Ujku, për së lárgu, për së gjáti
Wolf, from afar, lengthwise, slowly

Njëri ndër poetët më të mëdhenj
One of the greatest poets

Njëri ndër më i hutuari dhe më i huaji
One of the most confused, the most other

Mjekëra me e shndritshme në mal
The brightest beard in the forest

Veçse sillej poshtë e lart.
Only wandered up and down.

Më mirë të vdesësh një ditë sesa përditë. Përnatë.
Better to die one day than every day. Every night.

Edhe në fjetsha, mëndjen s'ma vë dot njeri në gjumë
Even if I sleep, no-one will put mind to sleep

Dhjelpra, kur iu dogj bishti, mendoi se gjithë bota kishte marrë zjarrë
When the fox's tail was alight he thought the whole world was burning

Kujtimet më të lodhura.
The tiredest memories.

photographed in 1994 by Anthony Weir
Gjirokastër, southern Albania
click the picture for more photographs on another website



ZHVARROSUR
DISINTERRED
in memoriam Enver Hoxha

Rreth e rreth

All around

Varg e varg

In a row

Natë e ditë

Night and day

Fund e krye

Tip to toe

Hundë e buzë

Flat on your face

Poshtë e lart

Up and down

Dimër e verë

Winter and summer

Në radhë të parë

In the first place

Kot më kot

In vain

Breg më breg

From hill to hill

Degë më degë

From branch to branch

Shpat më shpat

From slope to slope

Shteg më shteg

From path to path

Shpresë më shpresë

From hope to hope

Skaj më skaj

From corner to corner

Javë për javë

Every week

Dorë për dorë

Hand in hand

Kokë për kokë

Head to head

Gju më gju

Knee to knee

Sy më sy

Eye to eye

Faqe më faqe

Cheek to cheek

Gojë më gojë

Mouth to mouth

Buzë më buzë

Lip to lip

Fjalë për fjalë

Word for word

Dhembje më dhembje

Pain to pain

Gjak për gjak

Blood for blood

Sy më breg

Eye to hill

Kot më kot

All in vain

 

the dictator's library

 

PËSHPËRIT
WHISPER

Për të zbuluar

To discover

rastësisht

by accident

e me te butë

and softly

një fshatar

a villager

i mermertë:

of marble:

një shenjë

a sign

i mikpritjeje...

of hospitality...

Sa eshtë ora -

What time is it -

Pikërisht ?

exactly ?

Për të kthyer ndë dhet.

To return to the earth.

 

 

LODHEM SË FOLURI
I GET TIRED OF TALKING

Sa herë që shpreson shumë, fiton më pak.
Whenever you hope for much you gain little.

Sado që ia shpjegova disa herë, ai nuk e kuptoi mësimin.
Although I explained it to him several times, he didn't understand the lesson.

Duke qenë se ndihej i padëshiruar, shkoi më herët në shtëpi.
Since he felt unwanted, he went home early.

Duke mos ditur ç'të bënte, u ul pranë televizorit.
Not knowing what to do, he sat in front of the TV.

Edhe sikur të isha i lirë, nuk do të shkoja me ta.
Even if I were free, I wouldn't go with them.

Eja tek unë kurdoherë që ndihesh vetëm.
Come to me whenever you feel lonely.

Edhe në qoftë se vonohem pak, më prit se do të vij.
Even if I'm a bit late, wait for me, for I'll come.

Rrafshi është i rrethuar me male të larta.
The plain is encircled by high mountains.

Vetë e vërteta s'është shumë e fuqishme.
The truth, in truth, is not very powerful.

 

 

FYTAZI
AT EACH OTHER'S THROATS

Ishte parashikuar ne shekullin e njembedhjete
kurr leku ishte një komoditet i rrallë
që leku do të jetë Perandor
dhe leku veshja e tij e re:
një dordolecë por...
që na bën ne te hidhur,
na numëro,
na numëro... kater, pese
...numëro

më numëro mua midis qenit,
poezinë e barit,
leshtori duket si rjetë mermeri që përpëlitet
shumë njerëz, shumë poema,
shumë shkallë, dhe jo mjaftë mjekra,
shume libra
.


(This is an extract from Zana Banci's Albanian translation

of POST-MILLENNIUM MAGGOT.
Click for the entire poem in English.)

 

 

PLANET E SOTME
TODAY'S PLANS

Për të shtypur kokën e fluturës
Racking the butterfly's brains

Tani hamë drekë Now we eat lunch
 
Pastaj Then

Në më duhesh do të therras
If I need you I'll call you

Po qe se vjen ti vij edhë unë
If you come, I'll go, too

Ditët shkojnë e vijnë
Days come and go

Në kaltërsinë e pyllit
Into the blue of the forest

Nëpër qiellin e zi
Through the black sky

Flutura eshtë nën tryezë
The butterfly is under the table

Nuk kam ngrënë që dje
I haven't eaten since yesterday

Sa herë që vij te ti
Whenever I come to you

Ndihem mirë (përvec...)
I feel good (except...)

Deri nëser Until tomorrow
Vdekje Death




click on this image to go to
an Albanian Ottoman Architecture
website

 


PAQËNDRUESHME

In the world we've turned to misery
beauty is unbearable.



EMIGRATION

How much better is it to be hated
as an American
than as an Albanian ?



AFTER THE REVOLUTION
(1994)

Under the terrible dictatorship
we knew we had no freedom
to speak or to publish,
and we thought
we had freedom of thought
and imagination.
We could eat and drink frugally, quietly,
be quietly proud of our frugal lives,
and think ourselves modestly
self-sufficient.
We did with so little for so long
that we thought we could do anything
with nothing.

Today we realise that our imaginations
were stringless kites.
Because of the dictatorship
we are poor and unwrought.
We don't know what to think
in a world of multiple pollutions and corruption
where everything is bought
- even despised asceticism.
We have no faith in our truncated
sneered-at, jeered-at nation.
Those of us who dare to think
think secretly that there is no such thing
as freedom of thought.

There were no tourists before,
but now they come, under the new dispensation,
like old men's dribbles without let or hindrance,
not to admire the unravaged landscape but to pity
and savour our demoralisation.



SHQIPËRI ABSOLUTE
Absolute Eagledom, March 1997

"Absolute Anarchy,"
the blow-in correspondents trilled.
"No rule of law."
The missionaries and minor Mafia fled
their easy pickings and told lurid tales,
but the Deputy Director of Prisons (himself
a political prisoner for 16 years) said
how proud he felt that Albania was the first
European state with empty gaols.

The correspondents knew not one word
of our ancient and eclectic language,
did not mention that half our little craggy land
was seized by Serbs and Greeks
when the benign Turks pulled out,
said nothing of the coup d'état by Zog,
the Italian annexation and the Greek attempt
to annexe even more.
They said the usual little
about the paranoid dictatorship of Enver
which locked us fast
in aspic, as it were. Top reporters came
to wring their silky hands, and sneer, be shot at,
and leave for somewhere else to be aghast.



Selfportrait-metamorphoto by Anthony Weir

 

MAN'S DIRTY SLATE

Refugees
Yesterday the sodden trudge
Today the paper crayoned black
Tomorrow the burnt
and blackened house

Next week the child will
draw her home
as it was before the burning
With the dog

abandoned of course.

"Culture is war"
"All dogs are heroes"
In man's unremitting conflict
against nature, I too
am a conscript war-criminal.

 

Albanian dissident poems >>


GLOSSES ON TWO POEMS
OF THE ALBANIAN POET PETRO MARKO (1913-1991)

by

Anthony Weir

 

1. SUCH BURDENS ON THE MIND

"Marrezi, turp
turp dhe mëkate
per jeten e tërbuar..."

- APOLOGJIA IME (JETES)


Shame and rage
greed and pain:
life is a gaoler
bejewelled and vain.

Life made misery.
Life made Man.
In the wastes of desire
the grotesque can-can.

...as faliu ligjes sime,
bindu i çmendur endërrtar...

'Wer, wenn ich schriee, hörte mich...?'
How can it possibly matter in which language I am unread ?
Or, even if read, not understood ?
The warmth and the words of the dead are my comfort,
the greatest intimacy our grief beyond time
and its terror and hatred and bitterness.

Along the valley of death I've always been walking
and listening to the blood-pools talking,
bones and bonfires everywhere,
black and blue and red in the air.
Poisoned the water, bitter the rain.
Life itself is in love with pain.

Our comfort-manufactured metal hearts dissolve in rust
so that 'Old myths renew as passionate as dusk.'

...të shpirtit, në një kend,
lindi një shqetësim
që çeli varrin tënd...

If 99% of the ever-expanding Universe is unknowable
Dark Matter (The True God)
and an infinitesimal percentage of the remaining 1% is the
living matter we are so intent on corrupting and destroying,
the whole of life is the tiniest blemish
on the otherwise marvellous Universe,
no matter how many billions of synapses are in my brain,
no matter that life itself is in love with pain.

 

2. FLYING OVER EUROPE

Above us the blue.
Beneath us an old, old map.
I cannot see the borders or the armies
only rivers and forests.
The machine we are in
(eating sandwiches which taste of Treblinka and Gulag)
wipes through the mildew
wipes through the blight
of history. Those millions
of terrible events might not have happened.
But they are still happening now
out of sight, day and night.
Good news is something misreported.

________________________________________


How can it matter what language I am unread in ?




Albanian donkeys

 


Click on this image to visit an Albanian
archæological web-site.

 

Albanian Dirt: problems of translation >

 

 

FEEDBACK

from Jona in Tetovë, Macedonia on 30.12.2012


Është e çuditshme (dhe më shumë se sa interesante)
çështja se si rastisa tek ky ueb.
Poezitë janë të jashtëzakonshme!
Të ndjera me thellësi më tepër se oqeanore,
të errëta në masë;
me një dozë mllefi që shkarravitet vetëm mbi vetullat e atyre t’cilëve tree-like neuronet u pshurrin çdo ditë mbi vetëdijen, t’qullosuna nga anarkia por gjithsesi gracioze në esencë.
Paçshi ymër virtual e ju përgëzoj për punën që bëni!

Jona


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