nga : Riza Lahi
… Përpirës tani po avitet muzgu rrëzë madhështisë së frikshme të kalasë. Kalaja sikur afrohet pranë e më pranë me kalimin e minutave. Afrohet me përmasa vigane për të na zënë brenda, po të dëshirojë, si një re.
Muzgu, i zbehur nga dashuria, po përkëdhelë kërrelat e kaltra të Bunës, ndërsa ajo nuk e ka mendjen; ajo po mërmërin duke perënduar sytë, jare Shkodrane…
Kushedi se ç’ka parë brigjeve të veta gjatë vajzërisë së përjetëshme kjo Bunë …!Është e vetmja që di të ruajë intimitete shpirtërash; nuk ia tregon askujt, vetëm Rozafës, askujt tjetër më.
Buna po shkon anës këmbëve tona e bollshme, e qetë. Ajo di të marrë me të mirë ëmbëlsisht sy njerëzish të dërrmuar nga streset… Ke dëshirë këto minuta vetëm të vështrosh ujërat … Vetëm të heshtësh.
Fërshëllima shumë e lehtë e ujërave, ngjan si një korale ëngjëjsh. Sigurisht që engjëjt kanë zërin e tyre. Ky zë duhet të ngjajë shumë me mërmërimën e ujërave të Bunës nëpër muzg. … Buna ecën tërë hire , ojna – onja, si një nuse faqeplotë Shkodrane e veshur me rrobet e dasmës, që sapo i ka nxjerrë nga arka e saj e vajzërisë; si një nuse që po zbret që nga shkallët e ballkonit , si duke zbritur një anije me vela…
…Buna nuk po ka dëshirë të mbulohet me perçen osmane të natës dhe mërmërin duke kënduar me vete:“Kur ka hypë Jonuzi në lundër”. Vërtetë nuk e dëgjoni se si këndon tani ajo duke dalë nga shtëpia e vajzërisë, liqeni? Buna do të këndojë deri në mëngjes në gjerdekun e vet; atje ku nuk guxon të futet askush. Në oborr, atë e ruan si një vjehërr e sertë dhe e armatosur – Rozafa.
Ju betohem që nuk ka më të bukur në botë, sesa të bësh not shpinë mbi Bunë duke parë herë Kalanë e herë shpendët e shelgjet që derdhen përmbi ty…
TWILIGHT ON BUNA*
by : Riza Lahi
Greedily, the twilight is approaching now right at the foot of the castle’s frightful sublimity. It looks like the fortress is drawing nearer…nearer, from a minute to the next. It is approaching by giantess dimensions, ready to devour me like be a sky cloud, if she wants.
Pale faced from the love, the twilight is pampering now the blue curls of Buna, but she, carelessly, is now at her ecstatic – she is murmuring Shkodra’s “jare” **…
Who knows what she has seen at her shores during her eternal girlhood…! She is only one who knows to save souls’ secrets and tells nobody; only to Rozafa***, to whom she tells everything; nobody either more, never for ever.
Buna now is flowing side my feet; walks heavy and calm. She knows to becalm the eyes of human beings careworn by stresses…You have only one desire during those minutes – to watch the water…Only to keep mum.
The very – very light whistle of the waters, resembles like anglels’ chorus. Surely the angels have their voice. Their voice seems so much like the whisper of Buna’s waters on twilight…
The Buna walk full of charming , namby – pamby, like a cheek – rose bride from Shkodra , dressed for wedding with her wardrobe from her girlhood’s box; like a bride walking down from balcony’s stairs, like be a sailing boat…
Buna does’n like to be covered with ottoman veil of the night and murmurs by herself a fishermen ’s very old song.
Realy? Indeed you do not hear her own song going out from maidenhood’s house, the lake? Buna will sing until the dayspring in her bridal – room; where nobody dares to enter in. At the courtyard guards like a severe and armed mother in low – Rozafa.
I swear, does not exists something other so pretty, as to swim by back on Buna, looking time and again to the Castle and time and again waterfowls and willows by flowing down to you…
Greedily, the twilight is approaching now right at the foot of the castle’s frightful sublimity. It looks like the fortress is drawing nearer…nearer, from a minute to the next. It is approaching by giantess dimensions, ready to devour me like be a sky cloud, if she wants.
Pale faced from the love, the twilight is pampering now the blue curls of Buna, but she, carelessly, is now at her ecstatic – she is murmuring Shkodra’s “jare” **…
Who knows what she has seen at her shores during her eternal girlhood…! She is only one who knows to save souls’ secrets and tells nobody; only to Rozafa***, to whom she tells everything; nobody either more, never for ever.
Buna now is flowing side my feet; walks heavy and calm. She knows to becalm the eyes of human beings careworn by stresses…You have only one desire during those minutes – to watch the water…Only to keep mum.
The very – very light whistle of the waters, resembles like anglels’ chorus. Surely the angels have their voice. Their voice seems so much like the whisper of Buna’s waters on twilight…
The Buna walk full of charming , namby – pamby, like a cheek – rose bride from Shkodra , dressed for wedding with her wardrobe from her girlhood’s box; like a bride walking down from balcony’s stairs, like be a sailing boat…
Buna does’n like to be covered with ottoman veil of the night and murmurs by herself a fishermen ’s very old song.
Realy? Indeed you do not hear her own song going out from maidenhood’s house, the lake? Buna will sing until the dayspring in her bridal – room; where nobody dares to enter in. At the courtyard guards like a severe and armed mother in low – Rozafa.
I swear, does not exists something other so pretty, as to swim by back on Buna, looking time and again to the Castle and time and again waterfowls and willows by flowing down to you…
Buna*- Shkodra is more than 2500 years old town and is my birth place. My town is surrounded by three rivers – one of them is Buna – and one lake, called “Shkodra’s lake”. The river Buna flows out from the lake.
“Jare” *… – folk Albanian version of “aria” – very sweetly – singed only in Shkodra
Rozafa*** – the castle, at the enter of Shkodra, just where the Buna springs.
