Lulëzim Haziri - AT THE BARRICADES

On the barricades
With the sleeplessness of the Macondas’
Our dreams connected like a river
The sensibility of the position weighted him down
Longing for a lamb’s sleep
His couch in front of the TV covered with a blanket of guilt
His wife’s beads as a rosary on his hand and sad eyes looking down

At the barricades the post is delayed
Drinks aren’t served in its own crystal glass
There’s no illustrated press, neither espresso
The wind brings censored news
Like a war reporter on TV

Abandoned with the malady of anticipation on the barricades
Had a light romantic spirit
He wore silk ties around his neck
He was turned on by the nymphomaniac woman
Her bed invited him, her body was burning him
Noble she was,
Loyal on her word
She left us sleepy and astray
For the smell of morning coffee

At the barricades there’s no festival
Sliding on clotted blood
You see your home as a Fata Morgana
You keep your children’s longing on your pocket
While death sleeps on your helmet

Dirty faces by the smoke of hope
That burnt like a truck’s tire on the street
Hoped for a tanned look by the sea
Not turning red while sunbathing by the rivers
Dreaming with his eyes opened
As a patient who had surgery several times
Masterfully transplanted wood
An ostrich’s head had the eyes of a sheep
The heart of a rabbit
The tail of a lizard
An exact mythological eyesore