POEZIA E HUAJ ME E PREFERUAR...

"LOVE'S PHILOSOPHY"

The Fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the ocean,
The winds of heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single,
All things by a law devine
In one another's being mingle -
Why not I with thine?

See the mountains kiss high heaven
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdain'd its brother:
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea -
What are all these kissings worth,
If thou kiss not me?

AWAKE ! for Morning in the Bowl of Night
Has flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight:
And Lo ! the Hunter of the East has caught
The Sultan's Turret in a Noose of Light.

Dreaming when Dawn's Left Hand was in the Sky
I heard a Voice within the Tavern cry,
"Awake, my Little ones, and fill the Cup
Before Life's Liquor in its Cup be dry."

And, as the Cock crew, those who stood before
The Tavern shouted -'' Open then the Door!
You know how little while we have to stay,
And, once departed, may return no more."

Now the New Year reviving old Desires,
The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires,
Where the WHITE HAND OF MOSES on the Bough
Puts out, and Jesus from the Ground suspires.

Iram indeed is gone with all its Rose,
And Jamshyd's Sev'n-ring'd Cup where no one knows;
But still the Vine her ancient Ruby yields,
And still a Garden by the Water blows....

Omar Khajam

AWAKE ! for Morning in the Bowl of Night
Has flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight:
And Lo ! the Hunter of the East has caught
The Sultan's Turret in a Noose of Light.

Dreaming when Dawn's Left Hand was in the Sky
I heard a Voice within the Tavern cry,
"Awake, my Little ones, and fill the Cup
Before Life's Liquor in its Cup be dry."

And, as the Cock crew, those who stood before
The Tavern shouted -'' Open then the Door!
You know how little while we have to stay,
And, once departed, may return no more."

Now the New Year reviving old Desires,
The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires,
Where the WHITE HAND OF MOSES on the Bough
Puts out, and Jesus from the Ground suspires.

Iram indeed is gone with all its Rose,
And Jamshyd's Sev'n-ring'd Cup where no one knows;
But still the Vine her ancient Ruby yields,
And still a Garden by the Water blows....


perkthimi ne shqip:


Zgjohu! Se Mengjesi ne Kupen e Nates
Gurin qe rrotullon yjet ka flakur.
Veshtro! Gjahtari i Lindjes(Ketu: dielli) ka kapur
Kullen e Mbretit me Lakun e Drites


Kur dor' e majt' e Agimit prek qiellin
Nje ze , si ne enderr, tek Taverna me josh
Cohuni djema! Mos i lini kupat bosh
Sa koh' Leng' i Jetes ju gjalleron trupin.


Ndersa gjeli cirret, tek Port' e Tavernes
Nje turme bertiste: Hapeni Deren
E dini sa pak na takon te rrim'
Per ca te larguar, s'do kete me kthim.

Ja vit' i ri qe zgjon shpres t'vjetra
Shpirti i Trishtuar e kerkon vetmin'
Tek degeza ku Moisiu dor'n e bardh' shtrin
E Krishti posht' dheut qan e psheretin.


Bashk' me trendafilat shkoi dhe Irami
Kupa e Xhamshidit humbi ne thell'si
Po ende ne vreshta vezullon rubini
E kopsht' i vaditur cel plot gjalleri.

And David's Lips are lockt ; but in divine
High piping Pehlevi, with " Wine ! Wine ! Wine!
Red Wine ! " - the Nightingale cries to the Rose
That yellow Cheek of her's to incarnadine.


Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring
The Winter Garment of Repentance fling:
The Bird of Time has but a little way
To fly - and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.


And look - a thousand Blossoms with the Day
Woke - and a thousand scatter'd into Clay:
And this first Summer Month that brings the Rose
Shall take Jamshyd and Kaikobad away.


But come with old Khayyam, and leave the Lot
Of Kaikobad and Kaikhosru forgot:
Let Rustum lay about him as he will,
Or Hatim Tai cry Supper - heed them not.


With me along some Strip of Herbage strown
That just divides the desert from the sown,
Where name of Slave and Sultan scarce is known,
And pity Sultan Mahmud on his Throne.

And David's Lips are lockt ; but in divine
High piping Pehlevi, with " Wine ! Wine ! Wine!
Red Wine ! " - the Nightingale cries to the Rose
That yellow Cheek of her's to incarnadine.


Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring
The Winter Garment of Repentance fling:
The Bird of Time has but a little way
To fly - and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.


And look - a thousand Blossoms with the Day
Woke - and a thousand scatter'd into Clay:
And this first Summer Month that brings the Rose
Shall take Jamshyd and Kaikobad away.


But come with old Khayyam, and leave the Lot
Of Kaikobad and Kaikhosru forgot:
Let Rustum lay about him as he will,
Or Hatim Tai cry Supper - heed them not.


With me along some Strip of Herbage strown
That just divides the desert from the sown,
Where name of Slave and Sultan scarce is known,
And pity Sultan Mahmud on his Throne.


perkthimi:
Omar Khajam


Davidi edhe buzkyçur, piskat pandërprerë
Në pehlvishte hyjnore: Verë! Verë ! Verë!
Pi! i thot’ bilbili, trendafilit plak
Që mollzat e verdha të të skuqen pak.

Eja mbushe kupen e kërce mbi zjarre
Hidhe tutje veshjen, dimrore, pendestare
Se Zogu i Kohës te shkurtër rrug’ kërkon
Vështroje! Pa u ndalur si drita fluturon.

Brënda dites pemët, me mijra lulëzojne
Dhe po me mijra lule, baltrat i mbulojnë
Qershori kur afrohet, na dhuron trëndafilat
Por ndërsa largohet, merr mbretërit e bilbilat.

Braktise atë vend, festo me xha Khajamin
Harroji pergjithmonë Xhamshidin, Kaikobadin
Leri ti Rustumin që shtrihet porsi plak,
Dhe Hatimin që pret darken! Mos i përfill aspak!

Eja pra me mua, atje ku çelin lulet
Ku mbaron shkretëtira e jeta gjallëron.
Atje ku skllavi sulltanit s’i përulet
Ku më i lumtur ndjehesh, se mbret’ i mjer' në fron.

Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,
A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse - and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness -
And Wilderness is Paradise enow.


"How sweet is mortal Sovranty ! " - think some:
Others - "How blest the Paradise to come ! "
Ah, take the Cash in hand and waive the Rest;
Oh, the brave Music of a distant Drum!


Look to the Rose that blows about us - " Lo,
Laughing," she says,"into the World I blow:
At once the silken Tassel of my Purse
Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw."


The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon
Turns Ashes - or it prospers; and anon,
Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face
Lighting a little Hour or two - is gone.


And those who husbanded the Golden Grain,
And those who flung it to the Winds like Rain,
Alike to no such aureate Earth are turn'd
As, buried once, Men want dug up again.

Shoh Dallëndyshet që ikun larg
Dhe fletët që u zverdhën pak…
Mbi vreshta tutje bryma ra,
Përse ti s'vjen, pse nuk vjen pra ?

Eja në krahë të të mbajë,
Të admiroj e të vdes pastaj,
Dhe ta vej kokën që më dhëmb
Mbi gjoksin tënd, mbi gjoksin tënd!

A të kujtohet koha vallë
Kur të dy bridhnim në livadhe,
Kur unë të ngrija pupël në erë
Me miera herë, me miera herë ?

Në botë gjëndën femra plot,
Që sytë i kanë zjarr dhe lot…
Të arta qofshin ato gra,
Si ti nuk ka, si ti nuk ka!

Ti dritë do sjellësh e kthjellim
Në jetën time shpirtin tim,
Ti mbi çdo Yll ke bukuri,
E dashur moj, e shtrenjtë ti!

Vjeshta tani mbi fushat zverdh,
Rrafshultat i shkretojë për rreth,
Po bien fletët ca nga ca…
Përse ti s'vjen; pse nuk vjen pra ?
MIHAIL EMINESKU

Shtrati i dashnoreve

Shtrati yne do jete i parfumuar
E divanet perreth si varre te thelle
Stolitur plot lule perpara
Enkas per ty mbledhur neper qiej...

Duke djegur te fundmin prush
Pishtare do behen zemrat tona
E drin' e tyre te dyfishte
Do hedhin ne tonat zemra binjake

E ne mbremje roze blu mistike
Te njejten drite ne do t'flakerojme
Perzier me vaj, renkime e lamtumira.

Pastaj nje Engjell portat e qiejve do hape
E tonat flake te shuara do ndizen perseri
Se bashku perseri te dy do jemi
Besnik te lumtur ne perjetsi... SHARL BODLER

Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,
A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse - and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness -
And Wilderness is Paradise enow.


"How sweet is mortal Sovranty ! " - think some:
Others - "How blest the Paradise to come ! "
Ah, take the Cash in hand and waive the Rest;
Oh, the brave Music of a distant Drum!


Look to the Rose that blows about us - " Lo,
Laughing," she says,"into the World I blow:
At once the silken Tassel of my Purse
Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw."


The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon
Turns Ashes - or it prospers; and anon,
Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face
Lighting a little Hour or two - is gone.


And those who husbanded the Golden Grain,
And those who flung it to the Winds like Rain,
Alike to no such aureate Earth are turn'd
As, buried once, Men want dug up again.


Përkthimi:

Me një copë buk', këtu nën pemë
Një libër vjershash e një qelq me verë
Pran meje ti, lexon një poemë
Dhe dimr' i egër bëhet pranverë.

Dikujt mund t'i duket, shum' e ëmbël vdekja
E kërkon parajsën, i lodhur nga jeta.
Mbërthe vëlla çastin, qe ty të dhurohet,
Se muzik' e dashur sa vjen e largohet.

Trëndafil' i kuq, përkundet në erë
Me qortim na thot': Gëzoni të mjerë.
Qesen e mëndafsht' cop e cop e grisni
Ejani festoni, ejani mos prisni.

Lumturi për botën, zemrat dëshirojne,
dersa behen hi. Por dhe në ndriçojnë
treten si dëborë, në dheun e shkretë,
rrahin për një kohë e heshtin për jetë.

Grurin porsi ari, të urtit e mbollën.
Ndërsa ca të tjerë, pa kujdes e hodhën.
Që të gjithë bashkë, u mblodhën posht' tokës,
Sa do t' dëshironin, të dilnin prej gropës.


Kjo poshtë s'është e Khajamit. E shkruajta për pijetarët:

Shoqëroni verën, me mish të but' pule
Sepse në parajsë, s' gjeni as fasule.
Buka ësht' e forte, n' vend të verës uj,
ëngjëjt nuk t'a varin sepse je i huj

...vazhdimi i "Rubairave"


Think, in this batter'd Caravanserai
Whose Doorways are alternate Night and Day,
How Sultan after Sultan with his Pomp
Abode his Hour or two, and went his way.

They say the Lion and the Lizard keep
The Courts where Jamshyd gloried and drank deep:
And Bahram, that great Hunter - the Wild Ass
Stamps o'er his Head, and lie lies fast asleep.

I sometimes think that never blows so red
The Rose as where sonic buried Caesar bled;
That every Hyacinth the Garden wears
Dropt in its Lap from some once lovely Head.

And this delightful Herb whose tender Green
Fledges the River's Lip on which we lean -
Ah, lean upon it lightly ! for who knows
From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen !

Ah, my Beloved, fill the Cup that clears
TO-DAY of past Regrets and future Fears -
To-morrow ? - Why, To-morrow I may be
Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n Thousand Years..

You were crying on a quiet night,
Those tears in your eyes you weren't hiding,
I was so sad and so depressed inside,
And yet we couldn't overcome misunderstanding.

Now you are gone, I'm here, on my own,
My dreams have faded, losing tint and colour,
You left me, and again I am all alone,
Without tenderness and greeting, in my parlour.

When evening comes I often, crowned with rue,
Come to the place of our dating here,
And in my dreams I see the sight of you
And hear you crying bitterly, my dear.

You don't love me and don't feel compassion
Don't you think that now I look my best?
Though you look aside you're thrilled with passion
As you put your arms upon my chest.

You are young, so sensitive and zealous,
I am neither bad nor very good to you.
Tell me, did you pet a lot of fellows?
You remember many arms and lips? You do?

They are gone and haven't touched you any,
Gone like shadows, leaving you aflame.
You have sat upon the laps of many,
You are sitting now on mine, without shame.

Though your eyes are closed, and you are rather
Thinking of some one you really trust,
After all, I do not love you either,
I am lost in thought about my dear past.

Don't you call this zeal predestination,
Hasty tie is thoughtless and no good,
Like I set up this unplanned connection,
I will smile when leaving you for good.

You will go the pathway of your own
Just to have your days unwisely spent,
Don't approach the ones not fully grown,
Don't entice the ones that never burnt.

When you walk with someone down the alley
Chatting merrily about love and all
Maybe, I'll be out, walking round shyly,
And again, by chance, I'll meet you, poor soul.

Squaring shoulders, ravishing and winning,
Bending slightly forward, with an air kiss,
You will utter quietly: Good evening!
And I will reply: Good evening, miss.

Nothing will disturb my heart and spirit,
Nothing will perturb me giving pain, -
He who's been in love will not retrieve it,
He who's burnt will not be lit again.


YESENIN

TE HUAJES

- Pushkin -


Ne gjuhe per ty te pakuptuar,
Te fundit vargje te kushtoj,
Por kete cast te mjegulluar
Vemendjen tende deshiroj:
Gjersa i teri te venitem,
GJersa te digjem larg nga ty,
Ti do te jesh nje yll i ndritur,
Qe do te kem gjithmon' nder sy.
Nje tjeter kur te kesh perpara
Vec zemres sime i beso,
Si ke besuar dhe me pare
Pa ditur se c'te thosh ajo.



* * *

Gruziank' e bukur, mos kendo
Ti kengen e vendit tend te qete,
Se mua me kujton ajo,
Nje tjeter vis, nje tjeter jete.

Nder mend me solli me ngadale
Kjo kenge e ashper malesore,
Ndajnaten, henen permbi male
Dhe nje fytyre engjellore.

Kujtimet shpirti me s'i grish,
Nga bukuria jote i dehur;
Po ti kendon-edhe serish
Ajo me cfaqe papandehur.

Gruziank' e bukur, mos kendo
Ti kengen e vendit tend te qete,
Se mua me kujton ajo,
Nje tjeter vis, nje tjeter jete....