Loneliness is a prison

My tears hurt in
my eyes

Loneliness is a
concentration camp

Smells house-slops

In the waiting
tin-bowl

The iron plates

Of the heavy
boots

Of my heart

Crush my
ventricles

The temptation
mouse

Gnashes its
teeth

The cold iron of
the bed

Covered with
sleepless straw

Has got a single
season

Then we take the
pen

And write books

Delousing
ourselves

Of the
expectation parasites.

From: 
Vladimir Marku




Vladimir Marku's picture

ABOUT THE POET ~
Vladimir Marku: novelist, poet, essayist, translator and interpreter. Born Durrës, Albania, October, 1950. Graduated at Foreign Languages Faculty, Tirana University. Worked in the oil industry. Presently teaches English at a Private Foreign Languages Institute., Has written twenty-six books, all published, in Albanian and some in English.


Last updated September 20, 2012