CIKËL POEZISH NGA PETRIT DERRAJ

CIKËL POEZISH NGA PETRIT DERRAJ

Petrit Derraj

POROSI TIM BIRI

Qeveria , bir, të do injorant,                                                                                                              Të të xhvat me taksa e me kamat,

Bankat të duan për të të të mbytur,                                                                                         

përherë në borxhe të zhytur,

Të pasurit të duan  të përkulur

E ca të tjerë të duan të përgjunjur,                                                                                                    Kumari të fton në gjirin e tij,                                                                                                             Të të lërë pa bukë e shtëpi,

Paret ruaji se hajdutet ,po t`i gjetën,                                                                                                                   Të marrin edhe ato, edhe jetën,  

Ndaj  mëso, që  të jesh i lirë,                                                                                                                        Se dija gjithnjë është arma më e mire. 

KUR SHOH FEMIJE QE VUAJNË

Kur shoh fёmijё qё vuajnё pёrherё,                                                                                                                    Krejt qёnia sikur mё mpaket,                                                                                                                                          Edhe shpirti mё brengoset,

E sikur vazhmisht ai mё plaket,

Kur  jeta disa fёmijёve u shndёrrohet,                                                                                                                    Nё njё pavjon tё vёrtetё mjerimi,                                                                                                                               Kur u shkёrmoqet e tashmja e shpresa u errёsohet,                                                         

Mё pushtojnё, mё vrasin ethe trishtimi.

PER VITET QË IKËN NDJEJ MALL

Një pentagram rrudhash mbi ballë,                                                                                                                            Kërkon të ma relativizoje freskinë,                                                                                                                                 Per vitet qe ikën ndjej mall,                                                                                                                                          Peri i nostalgjisë më grish, më mendime, 

Edhe pse globi i viteve mbi supe më rëndon,                                                                                                                  Dhe mbi flok ka rënë pak argjend  mënҁurie,                                                                                                               Shpirti im i ri më ngjason                                                                                                                          Krejt me një ëndër të bukur rinie,

Aksi i vrulleve rinore më pëshpërit,                                                                                                              Nis e më ngjallen mijëra kujtime,                                                                                                                                                    Shpirti më mbushet  gjithë dritë,                                                                                                                                Teksa shuaj etjen te oazi me gëzime,   

Kur arshivën e ngjarjeve shfletoj,                                                                                                                                                                                                                       I madh ngjan panairi i ndodhive të rinisë,                                                                                                                        Kur shpesh miqtë e shokët kujtoj,                                                                                                                                                                                                             Per ta flake ndizet zjarri i dashurise. 

 PYET  NËNA  ZEMËRTHYER

E pushtojnё nёnёn ca kujtime                                                                                                                           Ca brenga e ca hidhёrime

Pyet nёna rrёkenё e lotit                                                                                                                                            Ç`faj i pata bёrё Zotit?

E pyet pёr halle e derte                                                                                                                                                Qё s`ja shuajnё as 7 dete

Pёr brengat qё e vranë                                                                                                                                                       Gati sa ja morёn xhan

Nёna pyet kasapin fat                

Qё e godititi rёndё me shpatё

       Pastaj zё e nis vajtimin                                                                                                                                                            Thelle nga shpirti nxjerr mallkimin                                                                                                          – Ah kurbet, kurbet i shkretё                                                                                                                                 Ç’pate qё m`i hëngre djemtё?!

 Emigrim, ah emigrim                                                                                                                                                           Pse ma thave shpirtin tim?!

 ZBRISJE SI THЁLLEZЁ TE BREGU

Zbrisje si thёllёzё te bregu                                                                                                                                           Lehtё –lehtё gjithё naze                                                                                                                                                                   Un tё zija pritё te shtegu                                                                                                                                                   Tё tё zbrazja ca maraze

Moj burbuqja nё livadhe                                                                                                                                                Çelur nё freski mёngjesi                                                                                                                                                      Ma bёre etjen tё madhe                                                                                                                               Belkёputura te mesi

Qerpikut e tu halorё                                                                                                                                                         Ma plagosёn shpirtin fare                                                                                                                                                  S`mё shёron asnjё doktor                                                                                                                                            Veç ti labja lozonjare

E ngjeshur me hire plot                                                                                                                                E gjitha njё mrekulli                                                                                                                                             Gjithё tiparet e fytyrёs                                                                                                                     Janё gosti pёr sytё e mi

DALE MOS ME IK NXITUAR

Dale  mos më ik nxituar,                                                                                                                                                    T`i bëjmë hesapet shtruar,                                                                                                                                                                                      Balli si qiell i qëruar,                                                                                                                                                            Për nën të dy sy të shkruar,                                                                                                                                          Digjesh flake e digjesh  shpuzë,                                                                                                                Mjalti me hoje në buzë,                                                                                                                                             Dale, moj të bëjmë paqe,                                                                                                                                  Gjithë aromëlulesh në faqe,                                                                                                                                             Kur vjen te kroi e ule,                                                                                                                                                                                            Siku vjen maji me lule,                                                                                                                                    Mos më ik ashtu nxituar                                                                                                                                                      Si Hënë në të perënduar