Sunday, April 10, 2005


I'm afraid freedom will come one day:

And I will not know her,
I will not notice her.
She will sit next to me in the bus,
Get off in some distant land,
And I will be told:
‘There goes freedom! Didn’t you recognise her?”
Freedom will come, like my father's death,
That I could never believe...

I fear freedom will come very bright,
I fear freedom will come quiet, very quiet,
I fear I will die
While she is in the hall taking off her shoes
I fear freedom is a beauty
I will never make love to,
I fear freedom, poor freedom,
will come, and I’ll have her in my hands,
but I will lose her like the most loved photograph,
I fear freedom will fail to stop, rushing by,
the train driver will fall asleep,
Or she will not see me, like the sailor
missing the shipwrecked in the sea,
I fear I’ll say to her: "Get lost you dirty witch!”
Or "My dear, where have you been until now?"
How could you come to Kosova this late?”
I fear she will miss her plane,
terrorists will kidnap her,
Or she will lose her ticket.
Something unexpected will happen.
An Irish dancer will try to teach her to dance in Dublin.
Some Italian will take her to Rome,
Or some escimo will freeze her under igloo
Trying to make her to smile giving her a smoked fish.

I fear I’ll be very happy.
Too happy. When I see her come.
And I will be very sad when I realise she won't come.
I might get run over by some fast train,
While confused and delighted I greet freedom,
I fear the building will collapse,
while under its shadow, with a little flag in my hand, I wait for freedom to pass by.
Both God and Devil I will thank,
One day when I've seen freedom.

I fear someone will hand freedom to me,
And I will be polite and not take it,
Or, I fear, I’ll take it, just to be polite.
I fear it will be cold,
And freedom may freeze on the road,
or it will be too hot
And she will die of a stroke or thirst
(I haven’t got good neighbours who would help her).
I fear freedom may eat an apple
and it will get stuck in her throat...
Or may fall from a bicycle,
On a Sunday
When the ambulance drivers will be off duty...
I fear freedom will have a faulty passport,
with a stamp from Qafëthana or expired!
I fear I might eat freedom in some sweet shop
Or swallow it like a kebab,
Never knowing what I have eaten.
I'm afraid that freedom might pop,
in some kid’s balloon,
where she has suddenly fallen asleep.
I fear freedom might be caged
in some Zoo, as a rare species,
Very rare.
I fear freedom will come disguised as a rabbit
To amuse the children,
And some hunter will fire at her, before I get to say
(just like in the movies): “Don’t shoot!”
I fear freedom might be a bear
some gypsy is pulling by the nose
Making her dance from village to village;
I fear freedom is a nail,
some villager has nailed into some beam
and now is going rusty from sadness.
I fear freedom might phone me,
while shaving and whistling in the bathroom,
I will not hear the phone ring.
Or she will knock on my door,
and I’ll be with my friends in some cafe,
Discussing peppers I never eat.
That’s why I fear when I leave my flat
I fear when I’m in my flat,
I fear while walking or eating.
I wonder if she has lost the address or the phone number
to some pickpocket who had no idea whom he was robbing
And what.
I fear I might go blind or deaf,
I fear I might get sick, die,
Since I could not give slavery its due,
I want to welcome freedom with everything: ready as a broom.
Smiling. Combed. Neat. Perfumed.

When I go out, I look at people carefully,
I say, I might see freedom amongst them,
or its herald.
I look carefully at the loaded donkeys,
the wandering dogs.
The river waves
And the train timetables.
I explore the beehives and cuckoos' eggs
I open my mailbox every day,
And scratch behind my house.
I follow the caw and the birds flying

Everything could happen
That’s way I fear from everything

I wonder if tired
Sick or thirsty,
She is somewhere
Waiting for me.