STILETTOS By Fatmir Terziu How I would have liked to have learned the language of stilettos Mornings, noon, Evenings Mondays, Fridays... and especially Sundays If only I knew their language They have a melody in their rhythm They float slightly off the ground And then as nails they attack the floor Stabbing as deep as the veins, the arteries Ah, I didn't learn their language, for God's sake! Long stilettos, short and small ones They all have a unique language Stepping on concrete, dry earth, or sandy ground The stilettos continue their typical movement, The type of stilettos that only God knows how He made them Multiply in number everyday like a species of mice. I know that the stilettos belong to the women So to understand their language care in needed Stilettos are just as strong and durable When holding delicate feet, Or when like bottles the feet weigh down on them. For a long time I have wanted to learn the language of stilettos Even though I do not understand a single stroke in the dictionary For a while I have wanted to learn something Since I was a boy, Since I was young... And even now that my eyes twinkle upon them. Oh, how stilettos wake up something in me And you should know it is not a secret Without stilettos it seems as if the river will takes us And the earth will decay us quicker... Stilettos have an amazing language They break stones and wood beneath them But I do not know if when old women wear them, Do they cause the same fuss?
Fatmir Terziu, London (formerly Albania)