tonat janë dy dukje të verbuara e simetrike
αυταπατώμεθα κι οι δυο, εθελοτυφλούμε συμμετρικά
Mario Bellizzi është Arbëresh nga Italia e jugut.
Vjershat e tij na përkasin,
na dhëmbin
dhe na zhveshin.
E lejojmë të futet në shpirtin tonë,
që të na shpëtojë nga iluzionet.
Sepse,
kur ne dëshirojmë mallrat të magjishëm,
ai do që të humbin edhe ata që janë të padukshëm.
Ο Μάριο Μπελίτσι είναι αλβανόφωνος Αρμπρές (Αρβανίτης)
από τη νότια Ιταλία.
Οι στίχοι του μας αφορούν,
μας πονούν
και μας ξεγυμνώνουν.
Του επιτρέπουμε να εισχωρεί στην ψυχή μας
για να μας απαλλάσσει από τις αυταπάτες.
Επειδή,
όταν εμείς λαχταράμε πράγματα φανταχτερά,
εκείνος θέλει να χαθούν ακόμα και τα άφαντα.
NJË LETËR PËR ÇIM ARIFIN, SHQIPTAR I MËRGUAR
ΜΙΑ ΕΠΙΣΤΟΛΗ ΓΙΑ ΤΟΝ ΤΣΙΜ ΑΡΙΦΙ, ΞΕΝΗΤΕΜΕΝΟ ΑΛΒΑΝΟ
Me sa fuqi i rrëmbehe këtyre gjërave pa vlerë / Με τι δύναμη προσκολλάσαι σε πράγματα άχρηστα
të përditshëm, vëlla shqiptar. / κι εφήμερα, αδερφέ μου Αλβανέ!
Makina e madhe, televiziona, .... / Μεγάλα αυτοκίνητα, τηλεοράσεις...
Unë lirik e i qetë të flisja për lumin Lethe / Κι εγώ που, λυρικά και γαλήνια, σου μιλούσα για τον ποταμό Λέθε,
të njoftoja me filologji të pasigurta përralla mbi kodrat. / σου απήγγειλα φιλολογήματα αβέβαια, παραμύθια στους λόφους!
U zgjuam nga ëndërra në Nëntor të vitit 1990 / Ξυπνήσαμε απ'τ'όνειρο Νοέμβρη του ΄90
gjatë bregut të detit Jonë përballë Atdheu. / στου Ιονίου Πελάγους τις ακτές, απέναντι στην Πατρίδα.
I kënaqur më the se në Durrës / Μου είπες με ευχαρίστηση ότι στο Δυρράχιο
zbukurojnë shtëpitë me shishe teneqeje e qelqi / ομορφαίνουν τα σπίτια τους με ό,τι τενεκέδες και μπουκάλια
që valat shtyjnë deri atje. / ξεβράζει η θάλασσα εκεί.
Ndose e mendomi i dashuri Çim / Μα αν το καλοσκεφτούμε, αγαπημένε μου Τσιμ,
tonat janë dy dukje të verbuara e simetrike / αυταπατώμεθα κι οι δυο, εθελοτυφλούμε συμμετρικά:
ti dëshiron mallrat të magjishëm / εσύ να λαχταράς πράγματα φανταχτερά
e unë të humbin edhe ata të padukshëm. / κι εγώ να θέλω να χαθούν ακόμα και τα άφαντα.
Natën, të dy të mërguar, / Τη νύχτα, ξενητεμένοι κι οι δυο,
më andej se Kanaan-Bukura More / τόσο μακριά από τη Γη Χαναάν (τον Πανώριο Μωριά μας!)
në gjeografinë e humbjes / στη γεωγραφία της απώλειας
kemi kërkuar me telefon siguri. / αναζητήσαμε την ασφάλεια από τηλεφώνου.
Etërve i thamë se jemi mirë / Στους πατεράδες μας είπαμε πως είμαστε καλά
por nuk i thamë si jemi ndryshuar tani! / μα δεν τους είπαμε πώς έχουμε αλλάξει!
Nga sytë e tu pashë ankthin i mbërtyer / Στα μάτια σου διέκρινα το παθιασμένο ξέσπασμα
që kanë popujit që shfaqen në kohë të reja. / που έχουν οι λαοί σαν εμφανίζονται στη σύγχρονη εποχή.
Përsëri, përpara syvet, / Ξανά, μπροστά στα μάτια μου,
m’u ndodhëtin anijet e shekullit’i XV / φάνηκαν πλοία του 16ου αιώνα,
anijet e Ndre Dorias / τα πλοία του Αντρέα Ντόρια,
që nga Shqipëria lundronin drejt Italisë! / που απέπλεαν από την Αλβανία για την Ιταλία!
Ti, Çim, nuk ishte sipër atyre, të kërkova kot! / Εσύ, Τσιμ, δεν ήσουν ανάμεσά τους, σε αναζήτησα μάταια!
Ja, ende te ky udhëtim i vjetër, / Να'μαστε πάλι, σ'αυτό το αιώνιο ταξίδι,
brenda një stuhi magnetike popujsh! / βουτηγμένοι στην έλξη που μαγνητίζει λαούς!
A LETTER FOR ÇIM ARIFI, AN ALBANIAN IN EXILE
With what strength you cling
To these common, worthless objects, my Albanian brother.
A large car, a television set...
I, lyrically tranquil, told you the tale of the river of Lethe,
Recited legends on the hillside with imprecise philology.
We awoke from our dreams in November 1990
On the banks of the Ionian Sea facing our Fatherland.
With satisfaction, you noted that in Durrës
They were decking their homes with tin cans and bottles,
That the waves of that Sea had donated.
But let us consider for a moment, my dear Çim,
Ours are two blind and symmetric illusions:
You long for wondrous, new goods
And I wish even that unseen ones might vanish.
At night, both of us in exile,
Beyond Canaan - Fair Morea,
In the geography of loss we found security over the phone.
We told our forefathers that we were well,
But didn't mention that we had changed!
In your eyes I saw that burst of anguish
Of people who have turned up in modern times.
Once again, in my sight
Appear sixteenth-century galleys,
The ships of Andrea Doria,
Sailing from Albania to Italy!
You, Çim, weren't among them. I sought you in vain!
Here we are still on that ancient journey,
Caught in a magnetic maelstrom of peoples.
[
Një letër për Çim Arifin, shqiptar i mërguar,from the volume
Last Exit to Bukura Morea,Castrovillari: Il Coscile, 2003, p. 28.
Translated from the Albanian by
Robert Elsie]
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