The only maiden I have loved
in all my life
was a beautiful gypsy
of the name Nejmè.
I remember the black braid
that fell over her shoulders.
Eyes like almonds she had
and kisses sweet as honey.
Every day we swore
eternal love to one another.
In the brief summer evenings
we met behind the tents.
We kissed under the full moon,
all through the night.
Quietly the Çapòk1 flowed by,
the tired gypsies asleep in their tents.
One spring the gypsies
did not come back to Hajdaraj.
They chose another region
of water, willows and storks.
In my sorrow I waited
seasons, months, years
for the gypsies to return
bringing me the brown Nejmè.
The years fled by in Darsia
one by one under the moon,
but no green springtime
brought my Nejmè back to me.
Never again did I see her eyes,
or her black braid.
Who knows in what tent she is today
and what lips she is kissing!
1. Çapòk: a stream in the village of Hajdàraj
Poem from the collection Peligòrga, Besa 2007
translated by Brenda Porster