Arian Leka

The spring is back anew, the sea shrouded in mist,
My semblance with the boats, is ceasing to exist,
The south wind dispersed the rains, that will not fall randomly,
Over the sky, the ground and soul, and sea sporadically,
What now that the Moon must be in bud, and flowers in their bloom?
High, high, are the pedestals, the heroes largely loom,

The cloud blows up, the forms I ruin, shut eyes and my brains press,
I’m glad, this world will have more humans, and angels all the less,
The table was the ship in the banquet’s sea, dreaming in full sail to waft,
One time I did have a few friends, now only papers left.

Translated by Fredi Proko