Advert For The Father-Land Poem by Fatmir Terziu

What could I tell a Londoner about the Fatherland? The adverts
Are copies of the unscrupulous inscriptions in tombstones,
Just as we are copies of the bestial goods,
Of our egoistic laughable thoughts,
Like fortune-telling using broken coffee-cups
which contain pieces of the phantasmagoric fates of our fear,
The yellow pages of history.
What could I draw to the attention of a Londoner,
The early flight of the sleeping thoughts,
I pity the forgotten contemplation,
I fear the future views,
The never-formed ideas stir my soul,
Six hundred years have I been drinking from the sea of thought.
I shrink in spirit, shy away from walking the streets,
Hide amongst the whispers,
The adverts of the land, adverts for the Father-land,
Advice about unbrushed teeth,
Instructions about uncut nails,
Adverts for baby nappies, adverts for Mercedes,
Adverts for slimming pills, packets for slimming belts,
What could I say about the Fatherland to a Londoner…