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Lekë Loshi

Et tu, Brute?

He stood on his throne
Believing the honesty of his friends
Not knowing the power of envy
Not knowing, the joyful relations it bends

Once amalgamated
They instantly separated
Their passions and ties, so fruitfully fit
At once shattered, the beauty derelict
Of a friendship once gained
And now mere amenity
How so a friendship was maimed?

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The Young Blossom

Bright, young dreams, flourished in the blossom
An old and beautiful orchard its mother
Ideas smother into form, the motherly tree stained by splotches of her lucid dream

Decorated by the exuberance of warriors, the amorous songs of birds, the tree is acute, shining like a simile to the sun.


Then there comes a storm, hectic chariots with their hoofs of lightning, engulf the land and green decays to black,

Families disband, unity undone
Mother separated from her only son
Blossom leaves flee, under the sway to be set free
The iridescent paintings become shabby and scattered
The colour loosing its glee
The young blossom, wet with tears
Wrinkled and tattered, scuffled and torn
Found its fate among the decadence
Of anything beautiful and lofty borne

poem by Lekë LoshiReport problemRelated quotes
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