Poems by Teuta Sadiku
Human being saved
Now that we have closed our mouths with a mask
How to shout at the man across the street
Only the killers can be heard in the air
And I wait for the pacts on the shores
Sharpen the tongue on a rock
I dream that I am soil
One by one words are seeping into me.
They will endure the distance,
How easily they will enter the languages
Will man be saved?
I once painted a little man
not by chance
with open arms,
with a thin a difficult time ,
in a word, to bring me to life:
“Come my friend, go ahead!”
as a child who was once
this thin red line in the mouth
I have been trying to paint …. yet
to remember me
A red line for the mouth.
A blind old woman tonight
in vain seeks in pierced pockets
a tightly held iron coin
perhaps even the particles of light do not fall asleep.
But in vain. Only distant memories
uninvited approach to mind
naked begin to dance differently
around the fire of youth with ash covered.
The lights of old age shine
happy moments cannot be restored
running horses with memories loaded
through the blood vessels, narrowed path.
Feelings, these playful already sick
lie intact in the ices of time.
The day from the window looks puzzled inside
how to roll, hours, years, months,
seeks to borrow a handful of lives
but the night falls asleep with the moon embraced.