HOMELAND IS SOLD, AUCTION IS CLOSED
Homeland is sold, auction is closed,
Everybody knows, there is no news,
Millions of ballots of voting value,
In sacks of money will turn this ruse…
We got into queues like thousands of sheep,
The pack of wolves we elected in polls,
And the new hope of thousands of bleats
They put together into party folds.
Instead of chains – the credit cards,
Bread and cars, and free slave-souls,
For the anxiety billions of pills
Under brand blouses, hearts with holes.
Evenings the dirt of the broken soul
In colorful screens, turns into honey,
And every evening both groups do count
We, heart attacks, and they…the money.
Homeland is sold, auction is closed,
This side drains gall, that side delight,
Each hour, here, I feel like a stranger,
But, I’ve no might, even for spite.
I have the might only for songs,
At which they all will laugh to tears,
And they will say; “…he never learned
This good a poet, idiot for years … “
Translation from Albanian into English
By Alfred Kola
