O Church...! Poem by Riza Braholli

O Church yonder the river steep
Tell me anxieties of my sleep!
Whether or not confessed to you?
‘twas the night of Saint Andrew...
Like that night there is no other
golden moon and beds of fire.

Did she tell who took her away
and her blouse who tore as prey
who kissed her and dallied a lot
made her a woman through a slot
until night, the stars, would hide
Saint Andrew was that night?

Did she tell "was caught in thorn
was alone, myself was torn? "
Did she tell "I was in fire
got undressed as if in summer?
Washed my eyes, washed my breast
And I saw God's eyes at best...?

Didn't shout, I didn't cry
under shirt got under sky
Watching stars, seeing the Moon
the wind blowing, woods in croon
like languor deep in my bosom...?
I thank God being a woman! "

O Church yonder the river steep
tell me how to soothe my sleep?
It was night only one night
It was short, long till was light
but I have not her again
I'm on earth but just in vain.

Make some room, give me a bed
City is like thorp instead;
I see gates behind my back
as they laugh at me and crack.
Stones and trees also deride
While the soul wailing beside.

There's no poison to save me
either potion or remedy
when I see her pass by me
another mouth on hers to see
mouth in mouth on lips to stop
my neck stretching like a rope.

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Translation from Albanian into English
By Alfred Kola
Korçë, February 4,2019