[Alb-Educ] Irish Wolf Poet on Albania

[Mithat Gashi]

Anthony Weir 
philosopher, poet, painter and photographer
visited South-Western Albania twice in 1994.

"When I went to Albania in 1994, 'the poorest country in Europe', with
ethnic divisions and virtually no modern 'infrastructure', I thought it
compared very favourably with Northern Ireland. The food was edible, for a
start (okra, beans, tomatoes, peppers). Almost every family distilled its
own raki, from grapes or plums, some of it of a quality that any French
maker of alcool blanc would envy. People were very friendly and curious. I
was enthusiastically directed or taken to places that interested me. I
could get by very well with a mixture of Italian, German and French as
well as English and a few words of Albanian - aided by Albanian goodwill".


From his impressions of Albania and its people
he wrote  these poems.

 ________

DERI VONË
TILL LATE

Ndaj të gdhirë 
Towards the dawn 

Pa natën 
Without night 

Me lajmet 
With news 

Ato bisudean për "pushimet" 
They talked about "the holidays" 

Kjo dhuratë është për ty 
This present is for you 

Për të zhvillosh 
To develop 

Me anë të vetëvrasjes 
Through suicide 

Percillni këtë nye për verzionin irlandesht. 
Click here for Irish 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. 

Më shkruaj në shenjë: 
Write to me as a sign: 

Gjuha shqipe nuk është aq e vështirë. 

Albanian isn’t that difficult a language 

  








NDAJFOLJET
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 kumbull, 
A kilo of plums 

Raki, shvillim 
Raki, development 

Vetëvrasje
Suicide

Por s’ka gjë
But it doesn’t matter

Vërtet
Really







LAKURIQËSI NAKEDNESS

Për bukurí, nuk 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 hutuari, më të tjetër
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 ftjesha, méndje 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 sjarrë

When the fox’s tail was alight he thought the whole world was burning

Kujtime më të lodhurat.
The tiredest memories.



Gjirokastër, southern Albania photographed by Anthony Weir





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 

Dimë 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 

Shtëg më shtëg 
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 

Faqë më faqë 
Cheek to cheek 

Gojë më gojë 
Mouth to mouth 

Buzë më buzë 
Lip to lip 

Fjalë për fjalë 
Word for word 

Dhembjë më dhembjë 
Pain to pain 

Gjak për gjak 
Blood for blood 

Sy më breg 
Eye to hill 

Kot më kot 
All in vain 














PËSHPËRÍT
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 

mikpritjeje 
of hospitality

Sa eshtë ora ?
What time is it ? 

Pikërisht ? 
exactly ? 

Për të kthyer ndë dhet. 

To return to the earth. 











PLANET E SOTME
TODAY’S PLANS

Për të shtypur kokën e fluturës
To rack the butterfly's brains

Tani hamë drekë Now we eat lunch
 Pastaj Then

Nesenmë duhesh do të të therras
If I need you I’ll call you

Po qe se vjenti vij edhë unë
If you come, I’ll go, too

Nëse 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






 

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 goals.

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.







MAN'S DIRTY SLATE

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.

_________