Skip to content

Languages

10 article(s) translated from Albanian

Almost Parnassus

Now comes the labor of descent. Walking down the wooden stairs of the house, it comes to you, you are descending the slopes of Parnassus— the chips in the white plaster, like feathered clouds, give onto the paths below— trapped in the snorting air-conditioner above you, Aeolus screams— and under the planks, broken like earth, belching autumn, hide the wild boars, watching, lying in wait for you, tracking your uncertain steps as they fall and scatter like rabbits...

from Second Sentence

February 1979 started with heavy snow, a biting wind, and the baying of the Alsatian kept by the guards to foil escape attempts. Superstitious prisoners claimed that the dog's howling at night augured the death of a senior politician: this would be followed by a turn in our own luck. Others said it foretold a death inside the camp. Most ignored such old wives' tales and knew that the dog was either sick or in heat. Nevertheless this howling struck terror to the heart, especially...

Irreversible Landscapes

Irreversible is the river on whose back dead leaves swirl. Irreversible are words- the dust of roads mingled with breath, warm breath that sticks to our trembling lips like fog to a boat.Irreversible is this cup of tea, irreversible the restrained aura of melancholy after a superficial conversation about books and cemeteries. Perhaps even Routine- the eggcup that keeps half of our round selves in balance- is irreversible.Irreversible are all moments of love even when...

The Island You and I

living on an island far from cities with traffic lights and people.Outside we hear the rustlings of a bed of reeds where the wind with its toothless mouth blows luring in tides.A boat is moored on the shore a forlorn boat rotting in the rain.It seems we'll never be able to use it to sail home.

February Sky

Large, gray, sprawled like an old elephant. Winter is ending. Low, sloping roofs are overturned boats slumbering along the shores of drowsiness.Twenty years of an oak tree's life is burned instantly in a stove. And eyes meet only by accident like suburban roads that intersect in grassy meadows, like streams that swell their banks, like hairs on a pillow after a long illness.The old elephant's hoof tramples the ground sowing poisonous yellow flowers in its path...

The Postman

He comes to me every day with a cruel bounce in his step with eyes darting like little green flames- the town postman in a heavy, damp coat jovially announcing he has nothing for me. I see his blue uniform broaden into form metal buttons flickering in the sunlight as he approaches my desperate shape. How those skillful hands-like the hands of a gynecologist!- maneuver through his bag, revealing nothing.I imagine a great pile of sealed white envelopes lying somewhere: birth...

The Cinema

Without fail Sundays at the cinema were always rainy days big black umbrellas clashing against the ticket booth. The doorman among the torn stubs looked like a watercolor hung crookedly on a kitchen wall. We waited anxiously in the front row until the horizontal beam lit a band of white dust and settled on the screen.Always the same old films soundtrack crackling like handfuls of rice thrown at the newlyweds' white car. Beautiful actors kissed as if for the first...

It’s Not Time For . . .

It's not time for a change. As long as I can remember it's never been time for a change. Like cars that screech to a halt houses stand poised in their old breeding ground of rotten acacia leaves.From ribs that bulge like knots on a bundle of wet ropes a faint voice arises, crying, "choose!" Choose between memory and that peculiar stench. . . . Choose between clouds and earth. I tremble like a tree in a winter storm. I wait. I don't understand but I...

Ahlem

1 The television room had never been so full and so silent, except for the announcer's voice booming for more than an hour. Nobody added a whisper to his commentary. Nobody made a move to leave. It was the first time that the entire group of political prisoners at Spaç, including the mine workers and the reserves, had assembled in that hut hammered together out of planks and rusty sheet iron. Sitting more closely crammed than ever before on the rows of stools, we were...

Shadows on the Snow

The snow comes late this year. Violet shadows doze like shepherds round a white fire. The swaying shadow of a fence looks like a woman's clavicle- a woman who dreams of her lover's snowy journey home, his late return. Thin trails lead to the doorway. A car parked for hours compresses black earth. Radio signals float just out of earshot. A boat with its eel fishers in luminous raincoats skims by. A child-his little hand trembling- casts slanting trees across the...
Like what you read? Help WWB bring you the best new writing from around the world.