To my mother Anika
That night – ember of stars
Delayed “Anek” the trip from Pireaus
And I couldn’t reach…
Impeded, though
Back I didn’t go…!
Hurry, please – I told them –
Hurry up…!
With the eyes hinged on the opening door
She waits for me
Migrated and yearning with longing
In the ancient island named Crete,
Where embracing sun and sea
Kazanzatkis forever sleeps
Oh, mother!
Through August’s heat
Loaded with pain
And my longing that was burning the sun
I made my way through Pindus,
As once the patriots passed through deer’s…
I came… I did come that day
With the eternal farewell’s cent
To moisten your lips
To kiss your eyes…
The dawn of each month
Perturbed I am
A knot of sorrow in the throat…
Always pining for you my blessed, dear mother
When I am troubled and lost
Like in between waves of a storm
I always seek an advise from you, mother
To reach the shore or some other land.
Turn my head and look for you
And mutter to myself:
Wait to ask my mother!…
“Anek” ferry will delay from Pireaus
But will always find me in the harbors
Like my blessed mother’s will
On the shore of Mediterranean,
Far away in Crete…
Pole Star falls from the sky,
To bring you here in our midst
The love for each other
And the homeland
Our vow for you…
Shpirti i poetit
Shpirti i poetit thur e shthur mbi letra
Pasqyra kristali tresin grinë ne brenge e lot
Si karfice ari ne mishin e dhimbjes
Ëndërr e harkuar ne ngjyrat e ylberit
Në kupë të qiellit nata tharmon yjet
Treten përmbi zalle lotët si flori
Drita nëpër gjak frymëmarrjen ndal
Aty ku vdekja rrëmben përjetësi
The spirit of the poet
The spirit of the poet weaves and unravels on the papers
The mirror of crystal digest the gray in ters and grief
A golden safety-pin into the flesh of pain
The colors of the rainbow in a bowing dream
In heavens dome the night fragments the stars
On pebbles are dissolvet the Golden ters
The light through the blood stops the breath
Where death turns into eternity
Migratory seagull
In rock’s roots I found the flower
With salt and sun together fed
But I couldn’t pick it up
Only painfuly I touched it a bit
I woke from the magical wave
In front of life I am nothing
I am only a migratory bird
Though I’ve got something for it
I throw the colours and grow the flower
The thorny flower arosed from the wave
I couldn’t uproot it from the rok
Though I could open a bud…
I am a migratory seagull of many colours
I am like wind and soul
Come out the wave, out of the sea
Like the sunset that remained on the sea
Peshku's Blog 
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