He Could Have Stayed
by Arbër Selmani
He could have stayed,
Because together we would have faced fortunes and agonies.
He could have stayed,
Because there is a wheelchair which we both need to push.
He could have stayed lest I be torn to pieces
He could have stayed and we would spend the summer together again
He could have stayed and we would have cow cheese and cognac for dinner
He could have stayed; I would love him even when he became old
He could have stayed and we would learn every lesson together.
He could have stayed,
As our room was a joyous one as a small school.
He could have stayed,
As we decided to tame laziness, to travel the world, to see the universe.
He could have stayed but he chose to fade.
He could have stayed as we would help mother get over the depression together
He could have stayed so I might catch other paths and shores,
He could have stayed and ate together figs, cherries, apricots,
He could have stayed so we could spit on the face of weariness spots,
He could have stayed, to give me again a rabbit for my birthday.
He could have stayed but he chose to fade.
He could have stayed and talked about fire and the sea
He could have stayed and we would stroll along the city lake
He could have stayed; my notebooks still require a third look
He could have stayed and amaze me with every wrinkle on his face, with every joke
He could have stayed so we could dance, paint, act.
He could have stayed,
As pharmacies can't be visited in solitude.
He could have stayed,
The mornings miss his running.
He could have stayed but he chose to fade.
He could have stayed and hug the mountain trees together
He could have stayed and talk about religion, more often, its’ absence
He could have stayed; I no longer have my man waiting for me at the airport
He could have stayed and be the guardian of my slack, be the king
He could have stayed, waited, to foresee the castles of my world.
He could have stayed but he chose to fade.
He could have raised me but it was time for his soul to flee.
Original Language: Albanian
Translated by Vlora Konushevci
Ai Mundi Të Rrinte
Ai mundi të rrinte,
se bashkë do t’i bënim ballë fortunave, agonive.
Ai mundi të rrinte,
se kishim një karrocë e cila të dyve na takonte ta shtynim.
Ai mundi të rrinte, që të mos bëhesha unë copë copë
Ai mundi të rrinte, dhe do të veronim prapë bashkë
Ai mundi të rrinte, dhe do të darkonim me djath lope e me konjak
Ai mundi të rrinte, do ta doja edhe kur të bëhej plak
Ai mundi të rrinte, dhe do të mësonim bashkë çdo mësim.
Ai mundi të rrinte,
Se dhoma jonë ishte gazmore, i ngjante një shkolle të vogël.
Ai mundi të rrinte, kishim vendosur ta nënshtronim përtacinë, të udhëtonim nëpër botë, ta shihnim gjithësinë.
Ai mundi të rrinte, por e ndau mendjen të flinte.
Ai mundi të rrinte, nënës do ti ndihmonim bashkë ta kalonte depresionin
Ai mundi të rrinte, që unë të mund të njihja shtigje e brigje tjera,
Ai mundi të rrinte, të hanim bashkë fikun, qershitë, kajsitë,
Ai mundi të rrinte, t’i pshtyenim në fytyrë të gjitha mërzitë,
Ai mundi të rrinte, të ma dhuronte prapë një lepur në ditëlindje
Ai mundi të rrinte, por zgjodhi të flinte.
Ai mundi të rrinte, të flisnim për zjarrin e për detin
Ai mundi të rrinte, dhe do të shëtisnim buzë liqenit të qytetit
Ai mundi të rrinte, fletoret e mia kërkojnë ende një sy të tretë
Ai mundi të rrinte, të më mahniste me çdo rrudhë të fytyrës së tij, me çdo barcoletë
Ai mundi të rrinte, që të vallëzonim, të pikturonim, të aktronim.
Ai mundi të rrinte,
se barnatoret nuk vizitohen në vetmi.
Ai mundi të rrinte,
mëngjeseve u mungon vrapimi i tij.
Ai mundi të rrinte, por vendosi të flinte.
Ai mundi të rrinte, të përqafonim bashkë drunjtë e malit
Ai mundi të rrinte, të flisnim për fenë dhe shpesh mungesën e saj
Ai mundi të rrinte, nuk e kam më njeriun tim që në aeroport më pret
Ai mundi të rrinte, të ishte rojë e amullive të mia, të ishte mbret
Ai mundi të rrinte, të priste, kështjellat e botës sime t’I sodiste.
Ai mundi të rrinte, por u pajtua të flinte.
Ai mund të më rriste, por i erdhi koha të vdiste.
About the author:
Arbër
Selmani
Arbër Selmani is a journalist and poet from Kosovo. He has published four books and has participated in numerous literature festivals in Europe, naming POLIP – International Literature Festival in Pristina, LITERODROM – Literature Festival in Slovenia and the XV Biennale of Young Artists from Europe and Mediterranean in Rome and Thessaloniki. His poems and stories have been translated to Italian, Slovenian, German, Bosnian, Serbo-Croatian and lately in English for Songs of Eretz Poetry Review, Zoetic Press, Ethel Zine, The Impossible Archetype, Rhodora Magazine, York Literary Review 2022 and Changes Press.
Some of Selmani's work includes To My Sister in a Wheelchair, which features in the first issue of Erato, Bloom.
Twitter: @arberiani | Instagram: @arberiu
Read more:
To My Sister in a Wheelchair by Arbër Selmani
Photo: Down the Stream by Erato Magazine via Wombo