Kanali - The Canal by Arshi Pipa

Kanali - The Canal

by Arshi Pipa



Kanali


Nga Korça bumbullon. Currila shiu
Rrjedhin prej mushamas mbi krena e shtroje.
Pështillen, struken gjindja ndër mbuloje:
nji lamsh ku qelben recka e mish njeriu.

Mbramje, Dikush përbri qet gjak për goje.
Këndon lehtas matanë nji fmi arixhiu.
Ky grindet për pakë uj qi shoku i piu;
ai shan se i vodhën bukën. Hyn nji roje.

Shkopinj e shkelma. Britma. Fryn bilbili.
Pushim. E dergjet lodhja, pran secili,
e flen kush mundet për at natë me fjetë.

Si lazaret rënkon e fshan baraka.
Nesër të gjithë i pret kanali, brraka,
veç atyre qi i pret nji vorr i shkretë.


The Canal

Thunder near Korça. The rain courses
Down tarpaulins onto heads, upon the hay,
The prisoners huddle, cower in their covers,
A heap of putrid flesh and rags.

Evening has come. Blood streams from a mouth,
A gypsy lad sings oblivious his song,
Some scuffle over a water drop drunk by a comrade,
Others curse for a bit of stolen bread. A guard enters,

Kicking and thrashing, cries, a whistle blows.
Then calm. All are exhausted,
Try to catch some sleep if they can.

Groans and sighs from the first-aid barracks.
In the morn, the canal and the marsh will be biding,
Except for those awaited by a barren grave.

[Kanali, from the volume Libri i burgut, Rome: Apice, 1959, p. 63. Translated from the Albanian by Robert Elsie]