The News: Lack of Love
We couldn’t read the news, nor decode a word
Nor the cries and prayers among the relics of hearts
I didn’t understand why freedom couldn’t taste Albanian
I couldn’t believe that we started hurting animals
And I committed suicide because I believed, wanted to breath
Me, or…repeatedly my shadow, or someone else
Those, I gave a hand and received poison and bullets; rusty words and iron
We were killing; bloody hands remained above the hell of love
Letters and verses torture unstoppable dormant conscience
The kind of people who soaked homeland, faith and soul of forefathers
Bloody infant of tears that don’t dry squirms yet today
And we remain orphans of love on the roads of the world
I don’t want to believe in animalistic nation that suffers from misdemeanor offenses
And, I don’t know why I hang myself through the pathetic hope of remake
What kind of damnation sucks the tired pieces of motherland cells?!
On behalf of who would be said my self-hanging, if there still exists tomorrow!
Pause of self-hanging through the national romanticism is like a homeland without love
Man, only fragile fiction of broken dream as ancient mosaic,
Oh, I need a pause to inhale tobacco smoke,
To not believe that we are hurting animals, oh my Lord...!