FERDINAND LAHOLLI
DHE PRETENDOJMË
Unë kam frikë të dëgjoj
e të shoh.
Ti ke frikë të dëgjosh
e të shohësh.
Ata kanë frikë të dëgjojnë
e të shohin.
Dhe pretendojmë pastaj
se botën mirë e njohim.
JEMI HIJE
Jemi hije,
që zvarren
pa ditur
ku venë.
Mund të ishim
njerëz,
që hije
përzenë.
E SOTME
Këmisha e ëndrrave
m'u shqye
nga dielli
i pritjes.
Lëkura
ndjen
përvëlimin
e hiçit.
PPSH
Ecën
vrastare
mbi ëndrrat
tona.
Pastaj
na harron fare.
S'merret
me kufoma.
SAVRA
Këtu është frikë të
flasësh,
frikë të heshtësh.
Këtu është frikë të buzagazesh,
frikë të zymtosh.
Këtu është frikë të mos kesh frikë.
KËTU
Këtu ligji
është syri i vdekjes
ndërë
mbi Shqipëri.
Këtu njerëzit
struken më thellë vetes,
të mos dallohen
prej tij.
FRIKA
Frika
na tregon
honet
e gabimit.
Duhet vrarë
vetja,
të shpëtojmë
prej frikës.
PENDESA
E përplasa
kokën
për heshtje
e tash
po më dhemb
prej durimit.
VETËVRASJA E GJETHEVE
Lakmuan
të jenë të arta
e tani po bien njëra pas tjetrës
me ulërimë.
In July 1990, the first of a series of dramatic
events in recent Albanian history took place.
About 5,000 starving refugees who had sought asylum in the German, French
and Italian embassies in the capital, Tiranë, arrived by boat at the
port of Brindisi in southern Italy.
They had camped out on the embassy compounds for over a week with little food,
water and medical care in order to gain their freedom and to bring the forty-six
years' long Stalinist dictatorship in Albania to its knees. In both objectives
they succeeded. They were simple people for the most part, unskilled workers,
farm labourers, 'the dregs of Albanian society' as they were to be called
by the tottering régime - people who were now about to embark on a
gruelling 48-hour train journey to Germany and who had no idea of what awaited
them in the outside world.
Among them was a poet, Ferdinand Laholli (pictured above). Born (1960) and raised in the mournful internment camp of the muddy plain of Myzeqe around Lushnjë in Central Albania, his father had escaped from Albania (eventually to the US) fifteen days before his birth. Laholli and his remaining family were, in accordance with Albanian Communist Party custom, automatically declared enemies of the people and sent to spend the next thirty years of their lives in Internment Camps even worse than the Refugee Camps of Palestine, where Palestinians have languished for generations.
Savër, Gradishtë and the other internment camps in Myzeqe, though primitive, were not completely devoid of intellectual stimulus. After all, many of the most talented people in Albania were in prison or in internment. Of their cherished possessions, all that these victims of totalitarian repression had been able to take with them into internment were their dreams, their thoughts - and the Albanian language.
Ferdinand Laholli spent his first year of freedom at a refugee centre in Lower Saxony. There, he spent most of his time in his room, writing, and liberating himself from the anguish of his past. The result of this year of monastic contemplation was the poetry collection Mjaft ky paradoks i hidhur ('Enough of this bitter paradox') - Laholli's first collection of verse after many poetic contributions to the numerous little Albanian-language periodicals which had begun to appear in Western Europe.
Laholli is a representative of a new generation of poets in Albanian literature. They are young writers who, for the most part, have never had the benefits of formal literary training or, for that matter, of a formal education. They are poets free now to express their true thoughts and genuine feelings, without the self-censorship born of fear of what the editor at the State Publishing House might say - and do.
adapted from a review by Robert Elsie in World Literature Today, 67.3 (Summer 1993)
Click for a list of books published since then by Ferdinand Laholli
IRHAN JUBICA
VONË
Vonë
Tash asht vonë
Edhe për me nisë
Edhe për me mbarue
Asht vonë
Për me dashtë
Për me urrye gjithashtu
M'kanë mbetë pak gjana
Vocrrake
Aq pak
Sa i mbështjell
Brenda një lëkure të kalbun
Molle
DIMËN
Diell qorruem
Prej fjalëve t'ndyta
Shkëmbye mes ditëve
N'ndrrim motesh
VETMI
Kam pague shtrenjtë për t'ia zhvatë
Zotit vetminë
Kur jam vetëm vdekja më mbron prej çmendisë
Kur jam vetëm nuk jam Zot
Zoti m'lutet n'gjunjë për t'u ba si unë
PREMTIM
Pa mbarue andrrën
E kthimit n'dhè lulesh
Rana ka vdekë
Q'prej asaj kohe
I pari zam
Ti
I vetmi
Por sonte
Mos guxo me më ringjallë
Varkë e vogël
Harrue i kam
Përrallat
E tekat e jetës
Por ajo çka duket
Fundi im nuk asht
Nuk ke si ikë
Jam Nili
I thamë
Mbas miliona jetësh
