Frederik Rreshpja - Shiroka in the winter

No more birds. Their flights have been cancelled.
Naught remains but rain's primitive canvas.

At the waters' feet lies the bank, pensive,
As it dreams of the summer just past.
In the sands of oblivion I gather
Your portrait's fragmented ceramics.

How short was this summer, oh Lord!
Just a handful of sand and of sun.
The calendar had but one Saturday,
And all of that day but one.

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

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