Dissident Editions




 

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

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

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

 

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

extortion through e-bay

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

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



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

migjeni

horatio morpurgo's albanian trip

albanian short stories

map of albania


the dictator's library

 

 

 

 

 

 

Shpirti i Shqiperisë

a canadian-albanian film
about the
"sworn virgins" of northern albania

 

Poems beyond the Albanian Experience.
NEW ALBANIAN POEMS

by

Luljeta Lleshanaku,
Brikena Smajli, Irma Spaho, Suzana Zisi,
Dritan Zaimi, Ermira Cara and Lediana Paja

To read this page properly, please ensure that the character encoding
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BRIKENA SMAJLI
Kosova

TONIGHT

translated by Zana Banci and Anthony Weir


Not one door is open tonight -
the wolf and I both out on our own.

 

ALBANIAN VERSION:

 

SONTE

Nuk ka portë që hapet sonte
Ujku dhe unë jemi jashtë.

 


 

LULJETA LLESHANAKU
born 1968 in Elbasan,
is an unique and self-assured voice in modern (not just Albanian) poetry.
A selection of good translations of her poems (including an awkward version of this one, as well as critical and biographical essays on the poet)
was published under the title FRESCO in New York in 2002.


EXAMINATION

from the collection GJYSMËKUBIZËM (HALF-CUBISM)
(Tirana 1996)
translated by Anthony Weir


At every turn examined
like a noun
constantly declined

In the Existential Ablative
nails sprout from my imagination
like case-endings lined up
by my dead cells

In the Genitive
I pursue the Dwarf
who wrenched off my chain
of lymphocytes
dried up by the moon.
And in the Dative I'm quiet
bent over
in the camp
at night
crushing parasites

But in the Nominative and Accusative
I am Narcissus, naked.
One day, solitary,
I'll drown in
my dreams.

 

another poem by on another websiteLuljeta Lleshanaku

 

IRMA SPAHO
now living in Boston, USA


THE SYMBOLS

translated by Irma Spaho and Anthony Weir


I was created from symbols
My little hands and feet were holding them when I
could barely crawl
My little mouth a deep black hole repeating them in
sleep
Yes, they were there among the first words I learned.
They prowled through my nightmares
And were deeply involved in my struggles
with cans and cannots.

Ah, the symbols, the symbols -
They stick to my mind like flies to wet paint,
Breeding like flies in the rims of my eyes
Where they take great pride
In trying to rescue the drowned of the past
Who come and go with the tides.
Symbols are aid-workers baggaged
with anguish and cruelty
For the bits of lost souls washed ashore.

I cannot escape from the symbols.
But when they go off to lie down, I will go back
and live with reality.

 

 

SUZANA ZISI

AT THE HOUSE OF ANIMALS

translated by Zana Banci and Anthony Weir


Wolf served me
coffee
imagining
the taste of my flesh…

Fox served me
lunch
while sketching
my coffin…

Mole served me
dinner
while digging
my grave…

Bloodstained birds
are pecking me;
Tattooed ants
are jumping on my back…

Where is the door ?
Open it !!
Bring in a human being.
- A human ?

Oh !
he died of miserable greed !
Then the wild beasts
occupied his home…

The planets
are screaming
into my heart…
are screaming.
.

 

ALBANIAN VERSION:

 

NË SHTËPINË E KAFSHËVE

Kafenë,
ma serviri
ujku.
Duke ëndërruar,
shijen
e mishit
tim…!

Drekën,
ma serviri
dhelpra.
Duke skicuar ,
arkivolin
tim…!

Darkën,
ma serviri
urithi.
Duke gërmuar,
varrin
tim…!

Zogjtë e përgjakur
më lëpijnë…
Milingonat,
tatuazh
më ngjiten
në shpinë…

Ku është dera?
Hapeniiiii…
Të hyjë
këtu,
njeriu.
Njeriu?

Oh!
Vdiq i ziu!
Bishat
e egra,
zaptuan
shtëpinë…

Planetet,
në kraharorin tim,
ulërijnë!
Ulerijne…

 

 

DRITAN ZAIMI
was born 1975 in Gramsh, central Albania.
His poems & short stories have appeared in several Albanian newspapers.
His first collection, Pain, was published in 2001 in Tirana, where he now lives.


translated by Zana Banci and Anthony Weir


MY DEATH

They told me
Death was coming soon
but he went down another street.
He'd got the wrong address.
What a pity!
When he does arrive
I won't know who he is.

 

RAINBOW
translated by the poet and Anthony Weir

After the rain
a shimmering shawl
unfolded and paraded
above the hill

Butterflies swarmed
and drank the rainbow
after the flowers.

 

DREAM

My dream fell asleep
and slept.
When it awoke
it noticed that I
had fallen asleep

for good.

 

IMBECILES

Those we don't understand
we call stupid
Those who don't understand us
we call stupid.

Surprise, surprise -
the world is filled
with imbeciles!

 

THE END OF PAIN

Still will I keep my silence.
By keeping silent, cry.
Through weeping, I will come to laugh;
from laughing I will die.

 

ALBANIAN VERSIONS:


BUDALLENJTË

Atë që s'e kuptojmë
e quajmë budalla.
Atë që s'na kupton
përsëri e quajmë budalla.

Sa cudi !
Kjo botë përbëhet prej dy budallenjsh.

 

YLBERI

Nje shall shumengjyresh mbeshtolli kodren.
Fill pas shiut u be drite.

Renden fluturat ti rrembenin ngjyrat
dhe pas pak drita ju fik.

 

ËNDËRRA

Ëndërra ime ra në gjumë,
. . . fjeti !
Dhe kur u zgjua,
pa se unë kisha fjetur
përgjithmonë.

 

VDEJKA IME

Më thanë se vdekja
ishte nisur për tek unë.
Pastaj kish kthyer rrugë,
sepse kish ngatërruar adresë.
Ç'fatëkeqësi!
Ndoshta një ditë nuk do të njohim
as vdekjen tonë.

 

FUNDI I NJE DHIMBJEJE

Sërish do të hesht
e duke heshtur, do të qaj
Duke qarë, do të qesh
e duke qeshur, do të vdes.

 

 

ERMIRA CARA
born in Kavaja, educated in Elbasan.


HELP ME TO LAUGH


translated by Zana Banci and Anthony Weir



I tremble till I melt
I shiver through my silence

I shake and need to shout
to scream and and to cry out

But nobody will hear me
Even those with ears

Nobody will see me
Even those with eyes

They will leave me shivering
Until I melt away

 

ALBANIAN VERSION:

 

NDIHOMENI TE QESH

Dridhem derisa shkrihem
Une dridhem nga heshtja ime,

Dridhem e kerkoj te bertas,
Te ulerij, vetem te ulerij,

Por kurrkush s'do me degjonte,
As ata qe kane veshe.

Asnjeri s'do te me shikonte,
As ata qe kane sy.

Ndaj me lene te dridhem
Derisa te shkrihem e tera,
aty.

 

 

LEDIANA PAJA
born in Korçe in 1980, now living in Boston, USA,
her first collection, Lotët e Nimfës
(Nymph's Tears), was recently published in Albania.


THE TIME OF THE SAND-CLOCK


translated by Anthony Weir and Lediana Paja



On the sands of time
fossils march:
their last parade.

Salute from the podium.
Jaws - triumphant - creak
as they grind old myths
with gritty teeth.

Crows have always fed on flesh,
and illusions destroy empires of illusion.

The sighing sand-clock has been turned afresh.

 

THE NYMPH OF THE POOL OF TEARS

I am the Nymph of the Pool of Tears
Where you wash out your shame each night
And you trouble and stain my water
And you wait
And I wait
Until the swans hunch their heads in their shoulders
And a stillness settles on the pool
And you talk
And you sleep
And I, the Nymph of your sleep
Begin to renew
Your sodden body
With my tears.

 

ALBANIAN VERSIONS:

 

KLEPSIDRA

Në klepsidrën e kohës
parakalonin fosilet
në ecjen e tyre të fundit.

Një salutim tribunor,
kërcitje dhëmbësh ngadhnjimtarë
që heshtaz, bluajne mitet në nofullat e rërëta

Tulet kishin nginjur korbat me kohë
Ndërsa ëndrrat shkatërronin
perandoritë e iluzioneve...

Ngashërim!
Klepsidra u përmbys, sërisht!

 

NIMFA E PELLGUIT TË LOTËVE

Jam nimfa e pellgut të lotëve
aty ku ti, mëkatet lan çdo mbrëmje
dhe pellgun tim, trazon
dhe pellgun tim, turbullon
dhe pret,
dhe pres,
derisa mjellmat kokën mbi sup ta varin
e qetësia e plotë të mbizotërojë.
Dhe flet
dhe flen.
Unë, nimfa e gjumit tend,
me lotët e mi,
trupin tënd të lagësht,
filloj ta freskoj...

 



>>> Two non-dissident Albanian poems >>>


>>> Albanian poems of Exile >>>


>>> Mitrush Kuteli and Albanian Dirt: problems of translation >>>

 


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

 



Filmi kanadezo-shqiptar, Gruaja pa krahë'

sapo ka fituar çmimin e argjendtë ‘Remi Award',
si pjesëmarrës në ‘Houston Worldfest 2003' në Teksas.



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