Fire of Fires
I have always loved the times
when people would make love with gods
Last night we lit the fire of fires yonder,
we were in a world of haze,
in exotic lands or unknown routes
through flesh and bone, we were in a daze,
attached like soil wrestling with roots.
Awake or asleep, slumbering on?
Who could recall from centuries a whit
bridles unleashed on endless lawn,
nibbling with teeth the snuffle bit,
longing and yearning again upon.
What eyes did see you tell to me
how bones creaked and stars did bawl
and light would darken endlessly free,
faded and boiled like water and soil
with clod amadou in dry fist lee.
Over or under, for night, or light
touching the earth, or cloud in the air
like Moon in longer cycle, in light
pouring last whispers down on hair.
The world is drowned in golden quiet.
We lit the fire of fires last night.
We sat, and saw the seventh day,
the world we started, standing on feet.
We then lay down for the ultimate play,
chewing on teeth the last white sheet.
Translation from Albanian into English
By Alfred Kola
Korçë, November 19,2016
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem