Ervin Hatibi (1974 - ) was born in Tirana and studied French at the Faculty of Foreign Language before moving to Jordan to study Arabic and Islamic theology. His first volume of poetry was published during the dictatorship, but it was during the 1990s that he became popular among students in Tirana and elsewhere. His poetry collections include I Watch the Sky Every Day (Përditë shoh qiellin, 1989), Poetry (Poezi, 1995), and Table of Contents (Pasqyra e lëndës). He is the author of a collection of essays, Republick of Albanania (Tirana, 2005). Hatibi is also a figurative artist who has exhibited his works both in Albania and abroad.
Ami Xherro (1992 - ) is a poet, translator, and performer working across idiosyncratic transcription practices. She is a co-founder of the Toronto Experimental Translation Collective and a PhD student at the University of Toronto’s Centre for Comparative Literature. Her debut book of poetry, Drank, Recruited, is forthcoming with Guernica Editions in fall 2023.
Instagram @amixherro
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Afrohu
Dua ti harroj sot fjalet
le te flasin vete veshtrimet,
le te flase dora qe dridhet,
ketu mbi kitaren time.
se kur erret bie nata
nje drite ndizet brenda meje,
njerezit fytyrat fiken,
asgje tjeter s'ndjej vec teje.
neper jave rrjedh trishtimi
cigaren prape kam filluar
nuk je ndryshe nga te tjerat
vetem une kam nryshuar.
e terhqeh imazhin tend,
dhe veten neper gjume
jemi bashke, por ne agim,
i vetem mbetem une.
te shoh me qarte kur ti je larg,
afrohu te te dua
dhe nese kjo eshte loje
nuk me pelqen te luaj.
dicka mire e kam ditur
vajzat vdesin porsi lulet
nje petal qe me solli vjeshta
permbi floke vjen e me ulet.
te shoh me qarte kur ti je larg...
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Closer
I want to forget words today,
let looks speak for themselves,
let the trembling hand speak
over my guitar.
When night falls it darkens.
A light turns on inside me,
people turn off their faces,
I feel nothing but you.
Sadness floods the week,
I started smoking again,
you’re no different from the others,
only I am.
I draw out your image.
Only in sleep
are we together, but at dawn,
it’s only me.
I see you clearer when you’re far,
come closer so I can love you.
If this is a game
I don’t want to play.
I’ve known something well:
Girls die like flowers.
Fall brought me a petal.
On my hair it settles.
I see you clearer when you’re far.
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FLENE NE XHEPA
LETRAT E PADERGUARA
I NDJEJ NEN LEKURE RRESHTAT TE PESHPERIJNE
ZARFAT TEK DRIDHEN
FILATELI QE TE DASHURIT NUK DO TE MUNDIN
TE MA SHQISIN NGA MISHI
JANE LETRA QE MBASE EDHE I SHKROVA
POR VETES IA DERGOVA
NE ADRESA TE LARGETA
THUAJ SE VETEN DUA TE SQAROJ
ME ARSYET E TE TJEREVE
PER PAMUNDESITE E MIA
ME FLENE NEN LEKURE
LETRA
NJE TUFE E TERE
LETRA QE MBASE EDHE DO TE NISEN
NE FAKT U NISEN, POR PER TEK UNE
QE SI KUTI POSTARE E VJEDHUR
GRUMBULLOJ PER VETE NJE FARE NGROHTESIE, FJALE TE MIRA
QE VETE I SHKROVA PER TE TJERE AQ MIRE
SA NUK MUNDET ASKUSH TE ME SHKRUAJE
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ASLEEP IN POCKETS
UNSENT LETTERS
UNDER MY SKIN I HEAR THE LINES WHISPERING
ENVELOPES SOMETIMES SHIVERING
STAMPS THAT LOVERS WILL NOT BE ABLE
TO RIP OFF MY FLESH
LETTERS THAT I MAY HAVE WRITTEN
AND SENT TO MYSELF
TO FAR AWAY ADDRESSES
TO EXPLAIN MYSELF
WITH OTHERS’ REASONS
MY IMPOSSIBILITIES
THEY SLEEP UNDER THE SKIN
LETTERS
A WHOLE BUNCH
LETTERS THAT MAY BE SENT
IN FACT, THEY ARE, BUT TO MYSELF
LIKE A STOLEN POST BOX
I GATHER A KIND OF WARMTH,
KIND WORDS,
THAT I WROTE FOR OTHERS SO WELL
THAT NO ONE CAN WRITE BACK
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Poezia e humbjes
Ti asnjehere s'e kupton cfare humb
lodron si nje mace ne hapesiren
e gjelber te syve te tu
dhe une i fyer i poshteruar
te pergjoj pas hijes sime
behet vone, sa vone nga ndarja
une mbi prush thyej shkarpa
si idiot i fryj hirit
ndizu zjarr
dhe hedh aty lule, shami, vjersha
rrobat e cdo gje qe kam
e ngel nje lakuriq i varfer, zhveshur
qe zjarri dot me s'e ngroh.
Ti asnjehere s'e kupton cfare humb
lodron si nje gjethe ne lulishtet pa ane
te syve te tu
por une dua te te dua
me cdo kusht
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Poem of losing
You never know what you lose
you wander like a cat in the green space
of your eyes
and I, offended, debased,
eavesdrop behind my own shadow
it grows late, how late from the separation
on the embers I break twigs
like an idiot I blow grace
light, fire
I throw flowers, handkerchiefs, poems
clothes and everything I own
I remain a beggar, naked
so the fire can no longer warm me.
You never know what you lose
You flit like a leaf in the edgeless gardens
of your eyes
but I want to want you
any way I can
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