Frederik Rreshpja - Sea

The moon slides through the fog
Like the skiff of my agony.
My dreams of azure isles drift
Through pain, through the moon!

I carved my sorrow on the seashore,
Waves tumbled in and turned it to tears,
Like the salty myths 'round my statue,
Yet no death comes to wash me away.

Downfall, a thug, knife in hand, glides
Through pain, through the moon.
My whole life has been like knife-slashed water,
Yet no death comes to wash me away.

- Det, from the volume Lirika të zgjedhura, Tirana, Albin 1994. Translated from the Albanian by Robert Elsie and Janice Mathie-Heck