Belfjore Qose


As much as not to be ours

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Afternoon Angel

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Translated by: Translated by Redi Sheqeri

Be first to rate

There is an hour,

When the voices no longer recognize the words,

When, between light and darkness, the silence rises,

When bodies are weightless

And transmute into wings,

When our faces float on the waters,

With eyes wide open and frozen lips, till they sink

In a river that takes away all what we’ve gathered.

And then,

Whilst we are speechless,

Without any good or bad memory,

Mnemosyne nourishes us with a big chalice,

The sun bursts like a red egg,

Everything is ablaze – fire of creation,

We recall other lives,

Young and old ones.

Our journey has just begun:

With hungry eyes and ears

We head for the banquet of the muses,

Walking in an unknown land.

At this hour

We become children again,

Our soft marrow fills with music,

Our heads with light,

And now we know

What is Agape.

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