ND'ËMBËLJ AQË TË PUTHURIT? CAN A KISS BE SWEETER?
Girolamo de Rada trans. Robert Elsie (from Albanian)
Ish e diella menat
E i biri zonjës madhe
Ngjitej tek e bukura
Të m'i ljipën një pik uj,
Se ish et' i djegurith.
Vetëm e çoi ndë vatërët,
Çë këshen më pjeksënej.
Ata duhëshin e s'e thoshin.
Vajza, me buzën mbë gaz:
'Ç'ësht e ikën si ajri?'
'Më presën ndë roljiet.'
'Di moll t'ardhura
Qëndro, u tij t'i ruata.'
Me një dor ngrëjturith
Mbanej mbi veshin e bardh
Ljesht e saj të shpjeksurith;
Kalli jetërën te gjiri
E më goljq mollëzit,
Më ja e vu ndë dorjet,
Ndë çerët e dhezurëz.
Thomnie ju, të dashurit,
Nd'ëmbëlj aqë të puthurit?
It was Sunday morning
And the son of the noble matron
Went to visit the fair maid
To ask for a drop of water,
For he was dying of thirst.
He found her alone by the hearth
Braiding her hair.
They loved one another, but spoke not of their love,
The maiden with a smile on her lips:
'Why must you fly off like the wind?'
'They're awaiting me for discus throwing.'
'Wait a moment, I've kept
Two ripe apples for you.'
Holding her combed hair
With one raised hand
Over her pale ears,
She plunged the other into her bodice
And pulled out the apples,
Placing them in his hands,
Blushing with embarrassment.
Tell me, oh lovers,
Can a kiss be sweeter?

Trans. Copyright © Robert Elsie 1995.


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