Friday, December 1, 2017




I am holding the shirt,
that shirt,
which has housed in your heart.
your fragrance
I am keeping it with me,
your membrane
is part of me  ...
Your shirt rises
a birds’ nest
into small pocket
Your shirt
carries on a broken button
since you opened it  rashly,
embalms the tired neck
and a smile
that is sleepy after the kissing ...
The shirts
which plants flowers in April,
to be not withered in winter,
Your shirt
Converted into a ragged sheet
by a happy scrimmage:
it pranks the trees
where we will climb
to be filled with fruits,
over there  is breathing your flesh
and a tomorrow child
who moves his little hands to be cuddled ...
I am keeping with me your shirt
and the bracelet
which are accompanying me
along the shores of Brindisi..
I am holding your shirt
and I enter into  the body of Mona Lisa
to follow you
through the Vlora΄s coast ...
I am holding your shirt
for not seeing how the nymphs get scared
of the collapse of buildings
under the cruelty of dynamite ...
Your shirt
It resembles a parachute
which is holding me to step down onto Llogara
until the entire coast of Himare,
is the membrane of the sea,
where Jesus Christ passed from side to side
by foot,
pranks the trees in winter
for not to be withered
and it enkindle the sap
in the following spring,
had been veiled on the shoulders of Milosao and Rina
while them were kissing and being married
after a tsunami in orb ...
Your shirt
accompanies my friend Laureta
while is writing
for the return
to Ventotene,
Your shirt
accompanies a countess in the Apennine
by ennobling
the whole peninsula,
it has that magic touch
to cure
my wounds
and to plant lilies there,
where the blood has ceased to flow
Without your shirt
I would not have bear "the escape"
of my brother in Communism,
sits on my forehead
in maternal care,
by reciting me verses from the Koran
and Father Muhammad
is blessing us for the paradise...
The divine shirt
is your shirt
that’s way the mothers take it
and bring it near to their lips
in maternal hospitals ...
that’s way the girls touch it
before they put on
the engagement ring.
That’s way the abandoned villages
are blessed by it
once the residents are fleeing
that’s way Petro Marko worn it,
became century
and withstood prison
this Jesus of Freedom ...
Am I holding your shirt
likewise the ship its foresail?
To come to you
to bend together the coasts ...


We'll meet in a day,
as two intertwined souls,
wait for me sweetheart, I will come,
with troubled look!
I saw you tonight, what fun,
my heart rejoiced,
likewise a volcano puffed lava
our souls a tumultuous sea ...
We looked into our eyes
Moon has accompanied us,
and I am asking you unceasingly
why I cannot write poetry?


During the night I fall in love with the stars,
I watch them silently
I made a deal with the Moon...
while I talk to them she shouldn’t get angry
I love this endless space,
I'm everywhere and nowhere...
How can we not meet?
By Rita Hoxha

Those who meet in songs,
Meet all the nights,
Those who meet in a dream
Meet all the days…
Those who encounter the desire
to create the world
and how can we not meet?!


Home has no lighting
the souls walk slowly for not awaking me,
and for not leaving me without writing
the sorrow through the home
it passes from one corner to the other one,
and it comes back again and goes where it started
to cross the terrible spiral...
The house is empty:
a song without sounds,
a pianoforte without the keyboard,
a sea without shores
and the feet without known streets ...
The home
needs my father's hand
to open it with crackling
and invite in the friends.

Translated from Albanian into English by tropoje 0.jpg
Laureta Petpshati


RITA HOXHA (OXHA) is from Durres and he migrated from Albania to Italy in the early 1990s where he now works as a translator and president of the union of immigrants for Puglia, Calabria and Basilicata. She began her literary creativity early and has published her works in newspapers and magazines both in Albanian and Italian. Recently he works as an editor at a newspaper Corriere di Puglia ed Lucania wherein she has her own column in bilingual, so in Albanian and Italian as well. Her activity is growing up day by day and she is member of an international organization and began working there as a International consultant... She also writes for the newspaper named Metropolinotizie.

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