# Kultura > Letërsia shqiptare > Krijime në gjuhë të huaja >  Nga Kipling!

## Dita

*Blue Roses*

*The Light that Failed*


Roses red and roses white
Plucked I for my love's delight.
She would none of all my posies--
Bade me gather her blue roses.

Half the world I wandered through,
Seeking where such flowers grew.
Half the world unto my quest
Answered me with laugh and jest.

Home I came at wintertide,
But my silly love had died
Seeking with her latest breath
Roses from the arms of Death.

It may be beyond the grave
She shall find what she would have.
Mine was but an idle quest--
Roses white and red are best!




*Butterflies*

*"Wireless" -- Traffic and Discoveries*


Eyes aloft, over dangerous places,
The children follow the butterflies,
And, in the sweat of their upturned faces,
Slash with a net at the empty skies.

So it goes they fall amid brambles,
And sting their toes on the nettle-tops,
Till, after a thousand scratches and scrambles,
They wipe their brows and the hunting stops.

Then to quiet them comes their father
And stills the riot of pain and grief,
Saying,  "Little ones,  go and gather
Out of my garden a cabbage-leaf.

"You will find on it whorls and clots of
Dull grey eggs that, properly fed,
Turn, by way of the worm, to lots of
Glorious butterflies raised from the dead."  .  .  .

"Heaven is beautiful, Earth is ugly,"
The three-dimensioned preacher saith;
So we must not look where the snail and the slug lie
For Psyche's birth.  .  .  .  And that is our death!





*The Explanation*


Love and Death once ceased their strife
At the Tavern of Man's Life.
Called for wine, and threw -- alas! --
Each his quiver on the grass.
When the bout was o'er they found
Mingled arrows strewed the ground.
Hastily they gathered then
Each the loves and lives of men.
Ah, the fateful dawn deceived!
Mingled arrows each one sheaved;
Death's dread armoury was stored
With the shafts he most abhorred;
Love's light quiver groaned beneath
Venom-headed darts of Death.

Thus it was they wrought our woe
At the Tavern long ago.
Tell me, do our masters know,
Loosing blindly as they fly,
Old men love while young men die?




*If*


If you can keep your head when all about you 
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you; 
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, 
But make allowance for their doubting too; 
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, 
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies, 
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating, 
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise; 

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master; 
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim; 
If you can meet with triumph and disaster 
And treat those two imposters just the same; 
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken 
Twisted by knaves to make a **** for fools, 
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken, 
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools; 

If you can make one heap of all your winnings 
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, 
And lose, and start again at your beginnings 
And never breath a word about your loss; 
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew 
To serve your turn long after they are gone, 
And so hold on when there is nothing in you 
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on"; 

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, 
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch; 
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you; 
If all men count with you, but none too much; 
If you can fill the unforgiving minute 
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run - 
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, 
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!

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## Dita

*"Late Came the God"*

*"The Wish House"*


Late came the God, having sent his forerunners who were
not regarded--
Late, but in wrath;
Saying: "The wrong shall be paid, the contempt be rewarded
On all that she hath."
He poisoned the blade and struck home the full bosom receiving
The wound and the venom in one past cure or relieving.
He made treaty with Time to stand still that the grief might
be fresh--
Daily renewed and nightly pursued through her soul to her
flesh--
Mornings of memory, noontides of agony, midnights unslaked
for her,
Till the stones of the streets of her Hells and her Paradise ached
for her.

So she lived while her body corrupted upon her.
And she called on the Night for a sign, and a Sign was allowed,
And she builded an Altar and served by the light of her Vision--
Alone, without hope of regard or reward, but uncowed,
Resolute, selfless, divine.
These things she did in Love's honour...
What is a God beside Woman? Dust and derision!

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## Dita

*The Miracles

I sent a message to my dear --*


A thousand leagues and more to Her --
The dumb sea-levels thrilled to hear,
And Lost Atlantis bore to Her.

Behind my message hard I came,
And nigh had found a grave for me;
But that I launched of steel and flame
Did war against the wave for me.

Uprose the deep, by gale on gale,
To bid me change my mind again --
He broke his teeth along my rail,
And, roaring, swung behind again.

I stayed the sun at noon to tell
My way across the waste of it;
I read the storm before it fell
And made the better haste of it.

Afar, I hailed the land at night --
The towers I built had heard of me --
And, ere my rocket reached its height,
Had flashed my Love the word of me.

Earth sold her chosen men of strength
(They lived and strove and died for me)
To drive my road a nation's length,
And toss the miles aside for me.

I snatched their toil to serve my needs --
Too slow their fleetest flew for me --
I tired twenty smoking steeds,
And bade them bait a new for me.

I sent the lightnings forth to see
Where hour by hour She waited me.
Among ten million one was She,
And surely all men hated me!

Dawn ran to meet me at my goal --
Ah, day no tongue shall tell again!
And little folk of little soul
Rose up to buy and sell again!

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## Dita

*Rebirth 

1914-18

"The Edge of the Evening"--A Diversity of Creatures*



If any God should say,
"I will restore
The world her yesterday
Whole  as  before
My Judgment blasted it"--who would not lift
Heart, eye, and hand in passion o'er the gift?

If any God should will
To wipe from mind
The memory of this ill
Which is Mankind
In soul and substance now--who would not bless
Even to tears His loving-tenderness?

If any God should give
Us leave to fly
These present deaths we live,
And  safely  die
In those lost lives we lived ere we were born--
What man but would not laugh the excuse to scorn?

For we are what we are--
So broke to blood
And the strict works of war--
So long subdued
To sacrifice, that threadbare Death commands
Hardly observance at our busier hands.

Yet we were what we were,
And, fashioned so,
It pleases us to stare
At the far show
Of unbelievable years and shapes that flit,
In our own likeness, on the edge of it.

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## shigjeta

Shume poezi te bukura flm qe I ke postuar Dita

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## oiseau en vol

Nëse ti mundesh për të parë të shkatërruar veprën e jetës tënde
Dhe, pa thënë një fjalë të vetme të vihesh për të rindërtuar,
Apo, të humbësh përnjëherë fitimin e njëqind lojëve
Pa një gjest dhe pa një psherëtimë ;

Nëse ti mundesh për të qenë dashnor pa qenë i çmendur nga dashuria,
Nëse ti mundesh për të qenë i fortë pa pushuar së qenuri i butë
Dhe, duke u ndjerë i urryer pa urryer nga ana jote,
Megjithatë të luftosh dhe të mbrohesh ;

Nëse ti mundesh për të duruar të dëgjosh fjalët e tua
Të shtrembëruara nga të ligj për të eksituar të marrë,
Dhe të dëgjosh të gënjejë mbi ty goja e tyre e çmendur,
Pa gënjyer veten tënde në një fjalë të vetme ;

Nëse ti mundesh për të qëndruar i denjë duke qenë popullor,
Nëse ti mundesh për të qëndruar popull duke këshilluar mbretërit
Dhe nëse ti mundesh për t'i dashur të gjithë miqtë e tu si vëllezër
Pa që asnjë prej tyre të jetë gjithçka për ty ;

Nëse ti di të meditosh, vëzhgosh dhe njohësh 
Pa u kthyer kurrë mosbesues dhe shkatërrues ;
Të ëndërrosh, por pa e lënë ëndrrën tënde të jetë zoti yt,
Të mendosh pa qenë tjetër përveçse një mendimtar ;

Nëse ti mundesh për të qenë i ashpër pa qenë kurrë i nxehur,
Nëse ti mundesh për të qenë trim dhe kurrë i pakujdesshëm,
Nëse ti di të jesh i mirë, nëse ti di të jesh i urtë 
Pa dhënë mend dhe pa qenë i ftohtë ; 

Nëse ti mundesh për të takuar Fitore pas Disfate 
Dhe t'i pranosh këto dy mësues në të njëjtën kohë,
Nëse ti mundesh për të ruajtur kurajon dhe kokën tënde
Kur të gjithë të tjerët do t'i humbin ato, 

Atëherë, Mbretërit, Zotat, Fati dhe Fitorja
Do të jenë përgjithnjë skllevërit e tu të nënshtruar
Dhe, ajo çka vlen më mirë sesa Mbretërit dhe Lavdia,
*Ti do të jesh një Burrë, biri im.*  

_(Perkthyer nga UN)_

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