I shall wear for you robes of pearls
so that every item that falls by your hand
will be a gift to the world.
There‘s no wisdom in hesitating,
but in patience and waiting
and the growing like a wave
to the point of breaking
and break thus
with a decision of steel.
Feel!
Think not of returning.
I shall offer you sherbet of roses
to fill you with grace and flavors
so that beauty will be your every word.
Yet there is wisdom beyond balance,
and so there is hate
at the other end of love,
and joy at the end of pain
and you will have neither,
should you not have both.
I hold your hand
not to scatter
like a handful of marbles
before time.
And my resistance to you,
is in turn,
the plea of a fire
to the butterfly.
© houseofmarble
Mbi urtesine
Do vesh per ty petka margaritaresh
qe c’te bjere prej dores tende
te jete dhurate per boten.
Nuk ka urti te hezitimi,
po te pritja e durimi
e fryrja si dallge
drejt pikes me te larte
e pastaj renia me vendosmeri
te hekurt.
Ndje!
Harroje paskthimin!
Do te te qeras me shurup trendafilesh
qe te mbushesh me hir e aroma
qe bukuri te behet cdo fjale e jotja.
Po ka urti pertej ekuilibrit!
E keshtu ka urrejtje
ne anen tjeter te dashurise,
e gaz ne fund te dhimbjes
e s’do kesh dot asnjeren,
po s’i pate te dyja.
Une ta mbaj doren
per te mos u shperhapur
si rruzuj
para kohe…
dhe ngurrimi im ndaj teje
eshte perkunder,
lutja e zjarrit
per fluturen.
24 Korrik
© Aida Dizdari, 2018