Eva Lec Gjoni (Albania)
Eva Lec Gjoni was born in Tirana (Albania) in 1966. She attended studies in the economic field. She has worked in the Ministry of Culture, Youth and Sports; Academy of Arts, Micro-credit institution “Kredo AL” and also is running her travel agency for a period of 20 years. She is the mother of three children. Eva writes poetry and prose. Her prose was part of the publication “Anthology of the Albanian stories in Century XXI”. Also, she is a participant in the other publication of the Albanian authors, “Porta e fshehtë e një gruaje” (The hidden gate of a woman). Eva publishes regularly her creations in the Albanian literary press and online media as well.
In my perfect days,
you were my sudden distraction
so on the whiteness of your skin
I dyed my paintbrush and painted
Oh, the rain girl,
come, don’t be shy,
I am the rain.
You have no umbrella.
I don’t want you covered.
Partitioned in drops I penetrate
deep into your hairs
and we exchange the fragrances,
me coming from sky
and you with your own fragrance.
I shed my body into yours.
Please close your eyes, just feel me.
I slip as long as I can
on your soft skin,
licking your neck.
Then… i don’t know who evaporates,
you or me.
Keep walking in the rain, don’t leave me.
I have always the same longing to touch you.
Don’t be reluctant to fall in love,
nobody can judge you.
For everyone, you are just a girl
getting wet in the rain.
I will break into pieces
your missing touch.
I will turn it into nothing.
Then I will feel happy
as I never lived.
In the crossroad you found me,
I am not as before.
Now I know what I should do.
I trace back my footsteps.
Am I going the same way?!
Don’t try to read me.
I often return to read myself.
that i am the worst reader of myself
Every time I read it in a different way
Every time i want to rewrite
a day that passed…
You miss me, mum.
I don’t know how to start saying
what missed mostly from you.
Your voice, nobody like you spells my name
Your slight steps, nobody walks like you.
Your hand on my hair, nobody’s hand has your weight.
Your look at me, i felt it on the back as well.
The flavour of the Turkish coffee is not smelled at home.
Sorry mum, maybe I haven’t been a decent person
You miss me so much as I want to embrace you now,
you know better.
Do you recall our best times
like traces on the sand?
They are not anymore but please don’t leave
The kisses that i used to sent you from far away
were stifled in my sea.
But please again don’t leave.
What has remained from me, I don’t know.
All is for you, take it and go!
Translated by Kujtim Morina