# Kultura > Letërsia shqiptare > Krijime në gjuhë të huaja >  Poezite e preferuara te Nimf

## nimf

Ju siguroj qe cilado poezi qe do hedh ketu eshte perzgjedhur me kujdes edhe mese ja vlen koha qe do harxhoni duke e lexuar : )  

Fillojme me nje nga Sylvia Plath (e cila po me meson si te ndihem kohet e fundit.) 


Mad girl's love song

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

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## nimf

Twice

I look at everything 
Twice,
Once to be cheerful
And once to be sad.

Trees have a peal of laughter
In their crown of leaves
And a large tear
In the roots.
The sun is young
At the tip of its rays
But the rays
Are implanted in night.

The world is enclosed perfectly
Between these two covers
Where Ive crammed everything
Ive loved
Twice.

Me poezite e Marin Sorescun me prezantoi nje shoqe ket vere edhe qe atehere kam rene me koke ne poetet rumun : )

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## nimf

Of love 

She remains bored and very beautiful
her black hair is angry,
her bright hand
for ages now has forgotten me,-
for ages too has forgotten itself,
hanging as it has from the neck of a chair.
In the lights I drown myself,
set my jaws against the coursing of the year.
I reveal my teeth to her
but she understands this is no smile-
sweet, illuminated creature
she reveals myself to me while
she remains bored and very beautiful
and for her alone I live
in the appalling world
of this inferior heaven.

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## nimf

Out of reach


This woman
Has someone in the bathroom.

She talks to me,
She loves me sincerely,
But in her soul, someone always fidgets
Just out of reach.
I read in her eyes,
Her hair,
In the life of her palm,
That this house has only one entrance,
And that shes hiding someone from me, in the bathroom.

Or, in the house next door, 
Or a different house,
Somewhere in the street,
Another town, a forest,
Or even on the bottom of the sea.

Someone stays hidden there,
Preying upon my thoughts,
Listening to my eternal feelings
With one eye on the clock.

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## nimf

Actors

How naturally spontaneous -the actors!
With sleeves rolled up,
How much better they know how to live our lives for us!

Never have I seen a more perfect kiss
Than the actors' in the third act,
When the passions start
To make themselves clear.

Stained with oil,
In authentic caps,
True-to-life in their perfectly plausible jobs,
They enter and exit with speeches
That unfurl like carpets under their feet.

Their death on stage is so genuine
That, next to its perfection,
Those in the graveyards,
The truly dead,
Made up for tragedy, once and for all time,
Seem stagy and unstill!

Whereas we, so stiff within our single span,
We don't so much as know how to come alive!
We speak our lines at the wrong time or keep silent for years on end,
Histrionic and unaesthetic,
And we haven't a clue where the hell to keep our hands.

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## nimf

Everyone

The old ones and the dead
Are like a tonic,
Its comforting to watch them.
Its they who are old not us,
They fulfill the act of death
Not us.

Most children
Are started
After some sudden death,
After, who knows whos funeral
Lovers feel a mad urge
To be alive.

And when no one
Departs this earth,
People watch the sky, worried.
If a star should fall
It means they can make their bed
In peace.

Everyone should ask himself,
I wonder who died
When I was born?

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## nimf

The ballad of the lonely masturbator


The end of the affair is always death. 
She's my workshop. Slippery eye, 
out of the tribe of myself my breath 
finds you gone. I horrify 
those who stand by. I am fed. 
At night, alone, I marry the bed. 

Finger to finger, now she's mine. 
She's not too far. She's my encounter. 
I beat her like a bell. I recline 
in the bower where you used to mount her. 
You borrowed me on the flowered spread. 
At night, alone, I marry the bed. 

Take for instance this night, my love, 
that every single couple puts together 
with a joint overturning, beneath, above, 
the abundant two on sponge and feather, 
kneeling and pushing, head to head. 
At night, alone, I marry the bed.

I break out of my body this way, 
an annoying miracle. Could I 
put the dream market on display? 
I am spread out. I crucify. 
My little plum is what you said. 
At night, alone, I marry the bed. 

Then my black-eyed rival came. 
The lady of water, rising on the beach, 
a piano at her fingertips, shame 
on her lips and a flute's speech. 
And I was the knock-kneed broom instead. 
At night, alone, I marry the bed. 

She took you the way a women takes 
a bargain dress off the rack 
and I broke the way a stone breaks. 
I give back your books and fishing tack. 
Today's paper says that you are wed. 
At night, alone, I marry the bed. 

The boys and girls are one tonight. 
They unbutton blouses. They unzip flies. 
They take off shoes. They turn off the light. 
The glimmering creatures are full of lies. 
They are eating each other. They are overfed. 
At night, alone, I marry the bed.

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## nimf

Freedom

he drank wine all night of the 
28th, and he kept thinking of her: 
the way she walked and talked and loved 
the way she told him things that seemed true 
but were not, and he knew the color of each 
of her dresses 
and her shoes-he knew the stock and curve of 
each heel 
as well as the leg shaped by it. 

and she was out again and whe he came home,and 
she'd come back with that special stink again, 
and she did 
she came in at 3 a.m in the morning 
filthy like a dung eating swine 
and 
he took out a butchers knife 
and she screamed 
backing into the roominghouse wall 
still pretty somehow 
in spite of love's reek 
and he finished the glass of wine. 

that yellow dress 
his favorite 
and she screamed again. 

and he took up the knife 
and unhooked his belt 
and tore away the cloth before her 
and cut off his balls. 

and carried them in his hands 
like apricots 
and flushed them down the 
toilet bowl 
and she kept screaming 
as the room became red 

GOD O GOD! 
WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? 

and he sat there holding 3 towels 
between his legs 
no caring now wether she lft or 
stayed 
wore yellow or green or 
anything at all. 

and one hand holding and one hand 
lifting he poured 
another wine

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## nimf

Alone with everybody

the flesh covers the bone 
and they put a mind 
in there and 
sometimes a soul, 
and the women break 
vases against the walls 
and the men drink too 
much 
and nobody finds the 
one 
but keep 
looking 
crawling in and out 
of beds. 
flesh covers 
the bone and the 
flesh searches 
for more than 
flesh. 

there's no chance 
at all: 
we are all trapped 
by a singular 
fate. 

nobody ever finds 
the one. 

the city dumps fill 
the junkyards fill 
the madhouses fill 
the hospitals fill 
the graveyards fill 

nothing else 
fills. 


charles bukowski

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## nimf

Sad love song 

Only my life will die for me, in truth,
sometime.
Only the grass knows the taste of the earth.
In truth, only my blood misses
my heart when it leaves.
The air is tall, you are tall,
my sadness is tall.
There comes a time when horses die.
There comes a time when machines grow old.
There comes a time when cold rains fall,
and every woman wears your head-
and clothes.
There also comes a huge white bird
and lays the moon in the sky.

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