Monday, July 10, 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...


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.

RITA Hoxha (Oxha) is from Durres and she migrated from Albania to Italy in the early 1990s where she 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.

No comments:

Post a Comment