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Ervin Hatibi and Ami Xherro

Ervin Hatibi (1974 - ) was born in Tirana and studied French at the Faculty of Foreign Language before moving to Jordan to study Arabic and Islamic theology. His first volume of poetry was published during the dictatorship, but it was during the 1990s that he became popular among students in Tirana and elsewhere. His poetry collections include I Watch the Sky Every Day (Përditë shoh qiellin, 1989), Poetry (Poezi, 1995), and Table of Contents (Pasqyra e lëndës). He is the author of a collection of essays, Republick of Albanania (Tirana, 2005). Hatibi is also a figurative artist who has exhibited his works both in Albania and abroad.


Ami Xherro (1992 - ) is a poet, translator, and performer working across idiosyncratic transcription practices. She is a co-founder of the Toronto Experimental Translation Collective and a PhD student at the University of Toronto’s Centre for Comparative Literature. Her debut book of poetry, Drank, Recruited, is forthcoming with Guernica Editions in fall 2023.

Instagram @amixherro

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Afrohu


Dua ti harroj sot fjalet

le te flasin vete veshtrimet,

le te flase dora qe dridhet,

ketu mbi kitaren time.


se kur erret bie nata

nje drite ndizet brenda meje,

njerezit fytyrat fiken,

asgje tjeter s'ndjej vec teje.


neper jave rrjedh trishtimi

cigaren prape kam filluar

nuk je ndryshe nga te tjerat

vetem une kam nryshuar.


e terhqeh imazhin tend,

dhe veten neper gjume

jemi bashke, por ne agim,

i vetem mbetem une.


te shoh me qarte kur ti je larg,

afrohu te te dua

dhe nese kjo eshte loje

nuk me pelqen te luaj.


dicka mire e kam ditur

vajzat vdesin porsi lulet

nje petal qe me solli vjeshta

permbi floke vjen e me ulet.


te shoh me qarte kur ti je larg...

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Closer

I want to forget words today,

let looks speak for themselves,

let the trembling hand speak

over my guitar.

When night falls it darkens.

A light turns on inside me,

people turn off their faces,

I feel nothing but you.

Sadness floods the week,

I started smoking again,

you’re no different from the others,

only I am.

I draw out your image.

Only in sleep

are we together, but at dawn,

it’s only me.

I see you clearer when you’re far,

come closer so I can love you.

If this is a game

I don’t want to play.

I’ve known something well:

Girls die like flowers.

Fall brought me a petal.

On my hair it settles.

I see you clearer when you’re far.

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Auto


FLENE NE XHEPA

LETRAT E PADERGUARA

I NDJEJ NEN LEKURE RRESHTAT TE PESHPERIJNE

ZARFAT TEK DRIDHEN

FILATELI QE TE DASHURIT NUK DO TE MUNDIN

TE MA SHQISIN NGA MISHI

JANE LETRA QE MBASE EDHE I SHKROVA

POR VETES IA DERGOVA

NE ADRESA TE LARGETA

THUAJ SE VETEN DUA TE SQAROJ

ME ARSYET E TE TJEREVE

PER PAMUNDESITE E MIA

ME FLENE NEN LEKURE

LETRA

NJE TUFE E TERE

LETRA QE MBASE EDHE DO TE NISEN

NE FAKT U NISEN, POR PER TEK UNE

QE SI KUTI POSTARE E VJEDHUR

GRUMBULLOJ PER VETE NJE FARE NGROHTESIE, FJALE TE MIRA

QE VETE I SHKROVA PER TE TJERE AQ MIRE

SA NUK MUNDET ASKUSH TE ME SHKRUAJE

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Auto


ASLEEP IN POCKETS

UNSENT LETTERS

UNDER MY SKIN I HEAR THE LINES WHISPERING

ENVELOPES SOMETIMES SHIVERING

STAMPS THAT LOVERS WILL NOT BE ABLE

TO RIP OFF MY FLESH

LETTERS THAT I MAY HAVE WRITTEN

AND SENT TO MYSELF

TO FAR AWAY ADDRESSES

TO EXPLAIN MYSELF

WITH OTHERS’ REASONS

MY IMPOSSIBILITIES

THEY SLEEP UNDER THE SKIN

LETTERS

A WHOLE BUNCH

LETTERS THAT MAY BE SENT

IN FACT, THEY ARE, BUT TO MYSELF

LIKE A STOLEN POST BOX

I GATHER A KIND OF WARMTH,

KIND WORDS,

THAT I WROTE FOR OTHERS SO WELL

THAT NO ONE CAN WRITE BACK

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Poezia e humbjes

Ti asnjehere s'e kupton cfare humb

lodron si nje mace ne hapesiren

e gjelber te syve te tu

dhe une i fyer i poshteruar

te pergjoj pas hijes sime

behet vone, sa vone nga ndarja

une mbi prush thyej shkarpa

si idiot i fryj hirit

ndizu zjarr

dhe hedh aty lule, shami, vjersha

rrobat e cdo gje qe kam

e ngel nje lakuriq i varfer, zhveshur

qe zjarri dot me s'e ngroh.

Ti asnjehere s'e kupton cfare humb

lodron si nje gjethe ne lulishtet pa ane

te syve te tu

por une dua te te dua

me cdo kusht

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Poem of losing

You never know what you lose

you wander like a cat in the green space

of your eyes

and I, offended, debased,

eavesdrop behind my own shadow

it grows late, how late from the separation

on the embers I break twigs

like an idiot I blow grace

light, fire

I throw flowers, handkerchiefs, poems

clothes and everything I own

I remain a beggar, naked

so the fire can no longer warm me.

You never know what you lose

You flit like a leaf in the edgeless gardens

of your eyes

but I want to want you

any way I can

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