Ndrek Gjini Poems

How To Read The Wind

My mother did not die of old age,
nor did any illness lay her low in bed.
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The Train of My Life

It departed at 8: 32PM on October 1st 1963
from a maternity hospital
...

I was with her. Together
we harvested the joy of life.
I do not know if it was Satan or God
that planted the thorn of hate in her soul.
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The Smell of My Thoughts

My thoughts wear the smell of sunlight
every time it rains.
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Dark Feelings

Into the bog of bad habits,
I am swimming every day.
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Challenge

If you live locked up
in the prison of hate
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The rain

And the rain came,
no one can remember when.
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The field and I

The field and I cut our hair
last afternoon.
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The Death of the Book

In the beginning there was the Word,
and the Word was with God,
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Letter from prison

My dear friend!
This letter for you
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