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Correspondence Kosova, instead of my dream, I found a grave in which I place flowers every weekend ... Islam Morina (A friend who went back from Denmark in Kosovo immediately after the war on 1999 to find his girlfriend who was shot dead by Serb military machine) If you remember Kosovo and graves Albanian immigrant spirit closes into loneliness And I bite the pain in white letter You my young friend Do not ask for the photo of the murdered childhood Do not daub the wound of a resurrected muse Measure the sunset with a first step Do not promise flowers to the spring Kiss the cold soil of my homeland And do not seek for love even within the books

Copyright © | Year Posted 2012

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Date: 6/1/2012 2:27:00 PM
Well done this poem bekim - oxox Anne-Lise
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