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BABA

BABA

Poetry by: Rifat Kukaj

How many times the sword of solitude
It breaks the clouds and thunders
Three echoes down the valley,
It reminds me of my father...

How often does the flower bloom in the spring,
He looks at the sky with sadness
My father always comes before me –
The wrinkles on his forehead say:


- Albanians, live among these flames
Above all, it gives me freedom
You grew up with friends, like poplars
Cut the storm with rapture!

Be loved as shopping
Like a bird with golden wings,
But that's when the dedication falls
Those fiery bani flats!

I don't know where a lot of tweets go
From these centuries-old gorges?
Dad's place for memories
It crosses me in these cruel days!