Poezi nga Ilda Mano

Ilda Mano

Te lypesh pak dashuri...

Te lypesh pak dashuri ne nje shikim, nje puthje te thate,

pakez dhenie dore, nje telefonate..

Te lypesh pakez, vetem pak nga ajo qe ish...

Ta ndjesh veten mbretereshe pa afat,

dhe diten tjeter lypese ndjesish.

Braktisur nga nje det fuqie,

thatesira e dhuruar, pa jete, e shpirtit qe dikur deshi,

mbyt

ate fare pakez drite qe zemra sheh neper nate,

ne nje shikim, nje puthje te thate.

21.06.2007

Ankth

Kur ne trup dritherima frike shetisin pa leje,

pasiguri, peshtjellim, perpelitje vershojne..

si nje dallge qe te merr me vete e s'ja di fundin,

lufton me tere forcat, per thonjsh, te shpetosh,

mendje, trup, e shpirt ne lufte kunder Asgjese..

Asgje qe eshte ne ty, e te perthith, sa here pak pasiguri ndjen,

E pasiguria jote, arme e mbreterise Asgje, merr vrull e te pushton,

pa zhurme, pa qesendi..

Rrethuar nga gardh i mashtrimit vetjak,

me mish e me shpirt lufton per pak drite,

e cohesh, s'ben ze, ne erresire, i humbur..

Will there be an angel?

Will there be an angel,

to put together the last pieces of this broken hope..

lightening up a fire, meant to heat people's frozen desires,

giving life to their broken dreams..

Will there be an angel?

to remove these broken pieces from inside,

which leave a salty taste deep within..

to give life to this sleepy walker of one's soul,

who's meant to walk all around, whereas sleeping is its best remedy.

Will there be an angel with white, snowy arms

bringing together these broken parts of a Caryon

giving soul to the music that's inside it?

Will there be an angel? white, snowy, peaceful, small angel?