Left devils, right demons
Definitely someone follows me
And indeed, don’t know where to go;
Left come forward hastily devils,
From the right wait the demons.
From the hutch I took a melon,
Part-part I began to chop:
Half of melon with demons,
Other half with devils.
I sharpen a pencil and opened a letter,
By the letter don’t remove my eyes:
Devils lie over the letter,
Demons stay over the pencil.
Where to enter, cannot find place,
Where to laugh and where to cry?
Left come forward hastily devils,
From the right wait the demons…
The horses in Mitrovica
The horses in Mitrovica,
more comely than the idea of Triumph’s Horses,
healthy and wis,
with yellowish tufts on forehead
as a divine ray bundle.
The horses in Mitrovica,
more educated than the foreign soldiers at the bridge
who don’t let Albanians
go in their homes
in the neighborhood with Serbians.
The bridges
I have always compared with centuries-old horses.
The horse brings you on the other shore of a legend,
enters you across the city, despite being modern.
I want to run after the Mitrovica’s horses,
to pull together the events
toward other better events.
Noble Horses of Mitrovica,
the worship toward you
will make me tonight an centaur:
the half pilgrimage’s zeal with golden horseshoes,
the other half a great
human dolor.