Poem by Elida Rusta
With pigeons I used to sent letters
With pigeons I sent letters
even though they were killed on its way
By mistake, the letter of love fell into your hands ,
that I wrote for someone else.
Neither its soul nor its letters
It’s not for you!
Elsewhere my prince wanders.
With the purse of metaphors,
from star to star he took the step
More beautiful than Sokol Halili
Who used to provoke Balkan’s girls,
While riding his brother’s knight
My prince has a yard beyond the Moon
and he ties his horses in Mars.
The daughter of Illyrian Shas’ snake,
and Shkelzen’s son,
under which I dry up the wounds of four thousand years,
I beautifully suffer,
and I don’t care about Einstein .
Nothing is relative,
everything is written in my chromosome.
That’s why I am not like you !!!
If I’ll ever get pregnant in fall
to a planet I’ll give birth,
to a beautiful one like my children’s eyes.