Oh when i was once young

    Puntorie Zyba Muça

    Puntorie Zyba Muça

    The writer Puntorie Ziba is considered one of the first pioneers involved in the feminist movement of female authors, with notions of individuality of creative literary-identity that have classified her in Albanian papers. "Strict, sincere to phenomena, to ugliness, to freedom, and to bondage to love and hatred, with my fine intelligence was dispersed in my letters, highlighting the dilemmas of the discriminatory position of the Albanians that the usurper's eyes saw us as power in the Balkans, about the discriminatory position of Albanian women in Northern Macedonia, about female victimization and the consequences of bigotry, primitivism, always adding to the references left by the Kanun, which even today can hardly be removed by some capricious mind. Creativity as a fragile and not at all easy craft can be more subtly cultivated by a mind and a hand, or a fragile female heart that looks at phenomena, also with fragile eyes without expressing anger at solving problems through rifle barrels, swords, or knives…

    Utopia 07

    Let me draw your face

    On my warm cheek

    With purple silky skin.

    Let me draft:

    Eyebrow verses

    meadow coloured yes

    horizon lips

    a chin of forest with snow

    and a dove’s heart

    ’cos I will put them in a frame

    lung coloured

    and I will hang them in the wall

    snow white

    over the overcast bed

    where i sleep alone

    winter, summer.

    Oh when i was once young

    How much I idolised A Chain of Pearls

    And the singer who sang it.

    That world,

    I would submit to the traveller

    In the train

    The bus

    The plane,

    And I would ask

    Slowly and politely

    Where they were going

    And why they are travelling,

    Are they scared of accidents

    How many children do they have

    What have they studied

    What language is their language,

    In what language

    Is love sanctified,

    Why is my language so good...

    I was once young


    How I loved:

    The roads, the gardens, the bushes, the flowers,

    The chimneys of houses

    Where people lived.

    Oh when I was once young

    I would mourn with the mourners

    that would weep for the killed refugee

    the injured veteran,

    and I would hate


    When I was young

    I would sing in weddings

    Together with the paid orchestra,

    I would not stop dancing

    Until the groom ended the night

    In the room where two days earlier we kept

    The bride’s dowry.

    Oh when I was once young

    My concern was:

    food, air, water and fire,

    because my mum made me finicky. 

    #puntorie #ziba


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