Praktika e Nenshkarjes

[Ani]

Femra ne kemishe nate...

Ne dhomen e ngushte,
pertej endrres feminore,
Xhilda sperkat veten me parfum;
te tera shqisat i leshohen
para se t’leshoje floke e kembe
zotrise tjeter qe pret ke dera.

ajo qe zbret shkallet drejt teje,
ose ajo qe ngjitet vazhdimisht ne mendjen tende
duke u bere mendimi me i larte,

Vajza keput nje hurme nga pema,
e ferkon pas shales, e pret dhe i jep atij gjysmen.
Dua te te tregoj dicka, i thote,
duke care me dysh faren me dhembe. Shiko,
i thote, duke i treguar cka ka brenda,
a e dije ti se farat e hurmes fshehin thika e pirunj?

ajo qe te arrin ty gjer
ne femijeri me nje te puthur,

Ne kembet e nje mali,
rrethuar nga dege ulliri, nje grua
kujton banjot me vajra te shtrenjta
dhe sferat rreshqitese te gjuhes se tij
nderkohe qe boshlleqet nen thonj i mbyten
zi-jeshil sa here qe ajo keput ullinj.

ajo kembezbathura ke porta,
ose ne divan duke lexuar,

Ajo perkulet mbi djep te shohe
foshnjen qe fle, pastaj tek kthehet
per te degjuar gerrhitesin burre ne krevat,
del nga dhom’ e gjumit dhe pa e ndezur driten
merr ne dore rrobat e femijes nga divani
dhe di c'permban kjo shtepi.

ajo qe varet nga ballkoni
te te hedhe shallin ndonje mengjes dimri
kur ti shkon per pune,

Ato kthejne filxhanet qe te kullojne
mbi gazete, dhe pas pak minutash u hedhin nje sy
brenda si te jene perendi duke pare poshte ne toke.
O Monda, therret njera, ke nje qivur ne shtepi,
duke pare fytyren e shoqes si tkurret
nderkohe qe lajmet e dites mbyten ne llum.

ajo qe shkruan ne erresire,

Mbas nje banjoje, nje vajze kontrollon veten
ne pasqyre. Ka humbur nja dy kile.
Mrekulli, qeshen. Ne kemben e majte,
mu lart te kellku, ve re dy a tre vija te shndritshme
shendeti. Ua, mendon ajo, duket tamam sikur
te m’kete prekur dora e nje zane.

shpulla e dores se nje femre,
(prej asaj qe ja ndjen eren ne gishtrinjte e tu),
gishtat e se ciles mund t’mos i shohesh kur te t’mbysin,

Ajo qan heshtur tek lutet,
si nje foshnje e harruar ne deshperim,
qan ne shtratin e vdekjes
pellembe-mberthyer si mize,
mberthyer e duke pritur per nje rikthim
te jetes se saj ne duart e Zotit.

kjo ketu

Sakatja, ne shtrat,
mbetet po ajo balerine qe ka qene dikur.
Ngre krahet ne erresire,
pershperit nje kengez
dhe krahet vallzojne tere naten
si bredhat e gjelber ne ere.

dhe ajo qe s’eshte aty
kur ti kthen koken

Ne varrimin e djalit te saj 11-vjecar,
nena ngrin, si gruaja e Llotit,
brenda e jashte kohes, s’mund te qaje
kur e ulin arkivolin ne erresire,
vetem gervisht duart.
Eshte mishi qe vajton.

eshte femra qe rreshqet perposh
cdo femre qe do dashurosh.

[Ani]

The Practice of Gliding Under

The one in the nightgown...

In the little room,
beyond her childhood’s sleep,
Xhilda daubs on perfume,
her senses loosening
before she loosens hair and legs
to the next gentleman at the door.

the one descending stairs toward you,
or the one constantly ascending in your mind
becoming the highest thought,

The young girl plucks a date from the date palm,
rubs it on her thigh, cuts it up and gives him half.
I want to show you something, she says,
and cracks the seed open with her teeth. Look,
she says, pointing at the insides, did you know
such seeds hide tiny forks and knives?

the one who can reach you
in your childhood with a kiss,

At the foot of a mountain,
surrounded by olive branches, a woman
recalls oil baths and the slippery spheres
of his tongue when the space beneath her
fingernails drowns in green-black
each time she picks from the olive tree.

the woman in the doorway barefoot,
or on the couch reading,

She leans over the crib to watch
her child sleep, then turning to hear
her husband snore in their bed, comes out
of the bedroom and without turning on the light
touches her baby’s clothes on the couch
and knows what her house holds.

the one leaning over the balcony
to throw you a scarf some winter morning
when you leave for work,

They turn over their coffee cups to drain
on the newspaper, and minutes later glance inside them
as if gods looking down on life. Oh Monda,
one cries, you have a coffin in the family,
watching the other’s face shrink
while today’s news drowns in coffee silt.

the one writing in the dark,

After a bath, a young woman checks herself
in the mirror. She has lost some weight.
Yes, she smiles. On her left thigh,
up at the hip, she notices three or four
shiny little stretch marks. Oh, she thinks,
looks just like a touch from a fairy¹¹s hand!

the slap from a woman’s hand,
(from the one you can smell on your fingertips),
whose fingers you may not see smothering you,

She cries silently as she prays,
like a baby forgotten in despair,
cries in her deathbed palms clasped
like a fly, clasped and waiting
for one more upend
of her life in God’s hands.

the one right here

The cripple, on her bed,
remains the ballerina of her past.
She lifts her arms in the dark,
mutters a little song
and the arms dance all night
like evergreens in the wind.

and the one not there
when you turn

At the funeral of her eleven year old son,
the mother freezes, like Lot’s wife,
in and out of time, cannot cry
when they lower the coffin in the dark,
only scratches her hands.
It's her flesh that cries.

is the woman gliding under
every woman you will love.

[Fiori]

Me pelqeu shume.

[Ani]

thanks Fiori. ketu qenke? ika une te fle tani se u lodha me perkthime! pah! pale qe kullova, plasem ketej nga verilindja. 93 degrees!

naten,
Ani

[Pentesilea]

E jashtzakonshme ne strukture..Shume poezi ne nje...Bravo Ani!

[macia_blu]

Postuar më parë nga Pentesilea
E jashtzakonshme ne strukture..Shume poezi ne nje...Bravo Ani!

shtoj dhe firmen time nen mendimin e pentesileas.

[Lule Portokalli]

Ani!
Nuk di pse une i shoh keto poezite e tua, nuk i lexoj. Nuk di pse ajo qe ti shkruan ne rreshta me shfaqet parasyve e gjalle dhe e fresket. E fresket, e fresket.....

[Ani]

pershendetje dhe falemnderit juve. jeni nje cike si shume te buta vec! ;-) dua ca kritike. se e di qe kjo ka boshlleqe. megjithate shume grazie qe e lexuat.

shpirti...ndoshta duhej te isha bere regjizore ose piktore se i kam dhe ne gjak por...kur mbusha nje vjec e me vune lodra perpara une zgjodha stilalapsin lol ahhh, te kete dicka te vertete ne ate loje thua? te shohme.

gjithe te mirat,
ani

[elda]

Me pelqyen shume.Urime!

[Lule Portokalli]

Mmmmmmmmm, Ani,
Po me ben te mendoj tani, qe ajo loja qenka e vertete...