Dritan Zaimi

 

 

Dritan Zaimi was born on May 5-th 1975 in Gramsh, Albania. He finished the high school of foreign languages in Tirana in 1993 and in 1997 he was graduated as Teacher of English Language at the University of Tirana.

Actually he lives and works in Tirana. He have worked for some years as English Language Teacher and as Project Officer with some foreign NGO-s.

He started writing little verses since he was very little. As a child he got a third and a first prize on poetry in the district of Gramsh when he was about 10 years old. But it was only when he was about 17 years old when he started to take writing seriously.

When he was a student he published some poems and short stories in different newspapers. In 2001 he published the first collection of his poems "Pain". Some of his published short stories are: "Lumi" (The River), "Brenga" (The Grief), "Dy copa akujsh ( The ice)", "Peshtyma" ( The Saliva).

 

 

RAINBOW
translated by the poet and Anthony Weir

After the rain
a shimmering shawl
unfolded and paraded
above the hill

Butterflies swarmed
and drank the rainbow
after the flowers.

translated by Zana Banci and Anthony Weir

DREAM

My dream fell asleep
and slept.
When it awoke
it noticed that I
had fallen asleep

for good.

 

IMBECILES

Those we don't understand
we call stupid
Those who don't understand us
we call stupid.

Surprise, surprise -
the world is filled
with imbeciles!

 

MY DEATH

They told me
Death was coming soon
but he went down another street.
He'd got the wrong address.
What a pity!
When he does arrive
I won't know who he is.

 

THE END OF PAIN

Still will I keep my silence.
By keeping silent, cry.
Through weeping, I will come to laugh;
from laughing I will die.

ALBANIAN VERSIONS:

 

YLBERI

Nje shall shumengjyresh mbeshtolli kodren.
Fill pas shiut u be drite.

Renden fluturat ti rrembenin ngjyrat
dhe pas pak drita ju fik.

 

ËNDËRRA

Ëndërra ime ra në gjumë,
. . . fjeti !
Dhe kur u zgjua,
pa se unë kisha fjetur
përgjithmonë.

BUDALLENJTË

Atë që s'e kuptojmë
e quajmë budalla.
Atë që s'na kupton
përsëri e quajmë budalla.

Sa cudi !
Kjo botë përbëhet prej dy budallenjsh.

 

VDEJKA IME

Më thanë se vdekja
ishte nisur për tek unë.
Pastaj kish kthyer rrugë,
sepse kish ngatërruar adresë.
Ç'fatëkeqësi!
Ndoshta një ditë nuk do të njohim
as vdekjen tonë.

 

FUNDI I NJE DHIMBJEJE

Sërish do të hesht
e duke heshtur, do të qaj
Duke qarë, do të qesh
e duke qeshur, do të vdes.