Albanian Literature | Classical

Andon Zako ÇAJUPI

My village

The mountains rich in stone,
The meadows full of grass,
The fields replete with wheat,
Beyond them is a river.

Across from it the village
With church and rows of gravestones,
And standing all around it
Are humble, tiny houses.

Frigid is the water,
The wind blows, but no matter,
The nightingale proclaims it:
Gazelle-like are the women.

Lying in the shade, men
Playing, busy chatting,
Misfortune cannot strike them,
For they're living off their women.

Women in the fields, and
In the vineyards, women,
Women harvest hay, all
Day and night a-toiling.

Women do the threshing,
Reap the harvest, women,
Leaving before sunrise,
After dark returning!

For their husbands, women
Scorch out in the sunshine,
Working, never resting
Not even on a Sunday!

Poor Albanian woman,
All the time a-slaving,
And when homeward's wending,
Makes both lunch and supper.

What about your husband
Lounging by the fountain?
Oh, my wretched woman,
You run, too, the household!

[Fshati im, from the volume Baba-Tomorri, Cairo 1902. Translated from the Albanian by Robert Elsie]

Motherland

Motherland's the country
Where I first raised my head,
Where I loved my parents,
Where every stone knows me,
Where I made my home,
Where I first knew God,
Where my ancestors lived,
And left their graves behind them,
Where I grew on bits of bread,
Where I learned to speak my language,
Where I have my friends and family,
Where I've laughed and where I've cried,
Where I dwell with mirth and hope,
Where I one day long to perish.

[Mëmëdheu, from the volume Baba-Tomorri, Cairo 1902. Translated from the Albanian by Robert Elsie]

Servitude

Dear motherland of mine,
I love you as you are,
But if I saw you free,
I'd love you even more.

Weep, oh forests, plains and stones,
Weep, oh mountains under snows,
Poor Albania is abandoned,
Never will she see the light,
Veiled forever is the country
In a thick and sombre blight.

Darkness and misfortune on us,
Thunder, lightning all around us,
Do we live with hearts a-frozen,
Dwell in fear, deprived of joy,
None in song do raise their voices,
And the nightingales are grieving.

What disaster, desolation!
In their nests the birds take shelter,
Yet the people flee their own soil,
For a savage law does rule it,
Yes, Albania we yearn for you,
Refugees in states so foreign.

How can you endure such serfdom,
Oh, Albania, wretched country?
You've saved other nations while you
Bear this heavy yoke and burden.
Oh, Albanians, swear an oath that
You will now fight for your homeland.

Dear motherland of mine,
I love you as you are,
But if I saw you free,
I'd love you even more.

[Robëria, from the volume Baba-Tomorri, Cairo 1902. Translated from the Albanian by Robert Elsie]