Advert For the Father-Land

By Fatmir Terziu What could I tell a Londoner about the Fatherland? The adverts Are copies of the unscrupulous inscriptions in tombstones, Just as we are copies of the bestial goods, Of our egoistic laughable thoughts, Like fortune-telling using broken coffee-cups which contain pieces of the phantasmagoric fates of our fear, The yellow pages of history. What could I draw to the attention of a Londoner, The early flight of the sleeping thoughts, I pity the forgotten contemplation, I fear the future views, The never-formed ideas stir my soul, Six hundred years have I been drinking from the sea of thought. I shrink in spirit, shy away from walking the streets, Hide amongst the whispers, The adverts of the land, adverts for the Father-land, Advice about unbrushed teeth, Instructions about uncut nails, Adverts for baby nappies, adverts for Mercedes, Adverts for slimming pills, packets for slimming belts, What could I say about the Fatherland to a Londoner...