The scent of fear lingers on the palate,
the pungent despair in nostrils will hide.
The dry canister of the body is crushed
by the hungry snake slithering inside.
After a while, it will bite three times
into the Adam’s apple, the deadly fruit.
Ah, your sweet blood will turn to bile
and you’ll roll down. Nothing can stop it!
It will stain the surrounding landscape,
and a dark twilight will come to pass…
Pray to the rain, the snow, and the wind,
to find solace in the woods and the grass.
..Only nature can soothe many sorrows.
Find a cave to pray in, Metropolitan Beast
in the green shrines, with the primeval gods,
in plateaus and hills and steepest peaks.
Translation from Albanian to English
By Alfred Kola
