Poetry by Linda Arapi is a hymn to isolation, the body consumed by loneliness and illness, subject to rot under the constant rain, which is the same pain of the poet. In addition to pain, there is no "then nothing (everything comes back to earth): the poem becomes the basin block where life and death collide. And death is seen as a marriage feast: a spot of life continues. There is no trace to cheer him, the peace that is seen only between the faces of others: the poet is left alone, tormented by the same all his male.Forse refers to loneliness among them his fellow man - "Who looks at him go like a stranger on the street. Foreigners. "- Or perhaps is only a reference to the poet's private life, where love and hatred is hatred becomes a thorn in the ribs, a memory that can not be dissolved, but it remains to rot with the same body in death.
***
Isolation
Blu
cold dark blue in the morning
a 'horrible summer
a' horrible summer
Peace in the lungs
occupies a large space handkerchief
clean every moment, like the sky
reflecting on the mirror.
No wire powder, no powder wire
A clear isolation
summer
summer
a 'horrible summer.
Indifference.
will be tomorrow, the day after
to greet me every now and then or maybe just the vomiting green
will cover such as grass
to rot.
are gone.
Summer is quiet everywhere.
not shut in a cage.
I smell my body
feel how long your life ...
I move.
A dark pink.
Lungs sick.
***
bloodstain
In white rooms
scattered in the white blankets
enter
relatives
sit with white jackets.
Wiping the sweat with white handkerchiefs
drink hot coffee cups with white.
wish the bride dressed in white
congratulations on other days
white rises
for the banquet, they kill white lambs.
by Ndodhi në Shpirt 1995 - (It happened in the soul)
***
The corpse flower
as a day of rain, when
smoke and drink coffee without getting up
dark with my hands begin to tremble
that often exists
accontonata a box at an angle,
to remind me that my dead body among the flowers
gets wet with rain.
Sola. Who goes
looks like a stranger on the street.
Foreigners.
***
I love you I love you
quiet breathing as the wealthy. For what
I hate you so much I'm
as death his murderess.
Since the legs rot
one day I love you wildly - like an animal
ripping her fetus.
I know you do not breathe
one day in the bushes, silently
die,
rotting smell in
who has forgotten name ... I love you ...
When you spit on them,
am I lick with his tongue
quiet.
I love you!
How long you are together
do not know, then,
do not know, the drunks do not remember the crazy things they do.
***
wonder
And my tombstone odorerà
as a small house to rot in the rain ... nothing
Then everything returns to the earth
(all taken) As simple
like a mother calls to debt oil and salt.
Then nothing.
Who knows how long,
maybe I'll be a beautiful flower
(or plug) or a sea
or bread is eaten
while ... who knows.
by Kufom Lulesh 1992 - (The body Fiorito)
(Translations of Anila Resul Albanian)
*
Lindita Arapi was born in 1972 in Lushnje, Albania. He graduated with honors from the University of Tirana in 1994 and began working as a journalist and moderator for the Albanian national television (TVSH). In 1996 until 1998 he studied languages \u200b\u200band lettererature German and English at the University of Koln in Germany. From 1998 to 2001 he devoted himself to the doctorate in the Faculty of Philological and Cultural Sciences at the University of Vienna, Austria. He currently lives
Bonn (Germany). Among the publications are
Kufomë lulesh (Tirana 1993), translated as The corpse flower in Italy (Brindisi, 1993), në Ndodhi Shpirt (It happened in the soul, Elbasan 1995), and Melodi të heshtjes (The melodies of silence, Peja 1998 ).
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