✧ POETRY COLLECTION ✧
IN MY NEIGHBORHOOD
Amb. Diana Mehmeti
ITALY · ALBANIA
In my neighborhood, the sun rises cold;
I still think we aren’t written in its book of fate.
I do not understand its spite even now,
Yet I begged no one for a different destiny.
Old folk sit on doorsteps like ancient lanterns;
My neighborhood weaves magic with colors;
Birds often arrive from the other world,
Their faces stained with red…
The moon melts entirely over us within the night,
At the wedding of hope that lasts until dawn;
Our pains—like needle-points—pierce
The winds that set out on aimless paths.
In my neighborhood, time is marked by a cough,
Against walls damp with tears—tears heavy as grain—
The apple tree blooms, though the blossoms are late;
Shadows dare not approach, for we pelt them with stones!
A POEM BY AMB. DIANA MEHMETI