A SILENT SYNPHONY As a melody sound I heard your voice, That silently came, Like a lightly whisper.

And Im punished To wait for a word, Inside the inderterminate silence Is so long. Melody sound Silent behind the spaces Voiced or envoiced, Sol, waiting at the top of pentagram. You, unsure to say Only an chord, And white Im waiting for your sonnet, I silently dance my symphony. SIMFONI E HESHTUR Si tingllim melodie e dgjova zrin tnd, q erdhi, ashtu n heshtje, si nj pshpritje e but. E, un dnuar t pres pr nj fjal, brenda heshtjes s pacaktuar sht ... kaaaqqq gjat. Tingllim melodie, heshtur pas hapsirave t zshme e t pazshme, soli, pret n krye t pentagramit. Ti, i pasigurt pr t thn vetm nj akord, e, un n pritje t sonats tnde, vallzoj heshtur simfonin time.

THE PRESENT A FORTUNE Ashes and crumbs, Were all that remained of her, Of her, that is not anymore, When inside the silence, You suffer the invisible being. Sounds and touch were lost, Inside my mind, Everything is immediately transformed, In ashes and crumbs. Here, the lack of yesterday, Is silently crumbling away Everything that used to be, It is not anymore. My only fortune, Becomes the present, When it embraces me, Whatever and everything. E SOTMJA - PASURI Hiri dhe thrrimet, mbetn prej asaj, prej asaj q, m nuk sht, kur brenda heshtjes, vuan qensin e padukshme. Prekjet dhe tingujt i humbi brenda mendjes time, gjithka shndrrohet n ast, n hi dhe thrrime. Ja, qetsisht thrrmohet mungesa e s djeshmes, gjithka q qe, m nuk sht. Pasuria ime e vetme, bhet e sotmja, kur m prqafon, fardo e gjithka.

DISCOLORATION A soaked thought, Exploding the surroundings of the garden, The javelins cover my head with blood. In the walls of time, The dreams scratch the rays of light, How deep inside the roots are. Everything is flooded, In the teor of the word. I cant see the eyes of the light. I eternally wander in flights, The fire stabs the darkness, A hopeful boat without anchor, Stay in the middle of the acean. I dont see any sud denness, When my mind is stuck by the words, The void promises the wind discolours. NGJYROSJE Mendim i lagur, shprthen rrethimet e kopshtit. Shtizat ma gjakosin kokn. N muret e kohs, ndrrat krruajn grshetat e drits. Sa thell jan zhytyr rrnjt. Gjithka qenka prmbytur n lotin e bots. Nuk i shoh syt e drits. Endem prjetsisht n fluturime, zjarri ma shpon errsirn, anije shprese pa spiranc, qndrojn mes oqeanit. Nuk shoh asnj befasi, kur mendjen ma bllokojn fjalt. Premtimet boshe era mi 'ngjyros. Alma Begaj - tetor 2011