Kasëm TREBESHINA
Among the little-known figures of the early years of postwar Albanian literature is Kasëm Trebeshina (b. 1926). Trebeshina was born in Berat and studied at the Shkolla Normale (Normal School) in Elbasan until joining the communist resistance movement in 1942. After the war he studied at the Ostrovsky Theatre Institute in Leningrad. A committed communist, but by no means a conformist, Trebeshina left the party and later the Writer’s Union in Tirana. Much of his work was written in the late forties and early fifties, but never published.
In an extremely rare act of open dissent in Albanian intellectual life, Trebeshina tells us he sent a ‘pro memoria’ to Enver Hoxha on 5 October 1953, warning him that his cultural policies were leading the nation down the road to disaster. It goes without saying that the dictator was not particularly amused. Kasëm Trebeshina, the unpublished author of eighteen volumes of verse, forty-two plays, twenty-two novels and short stories, etc., vanished from the literary scene with scarcely a trace following this voluntary act of self-destruction. After seventeen years in prison, with interruptions, a comparatively light sentence as he later noted, and twenty years of silence, Trebeshina resurfaced with a handful of other writers, artists and intellectuals to see that his prediction had come true.
Of Trebeshina’s voluminous writing, only one collection of poetry, Artani dhe Min’ja ose hijet e fundit të maleve, Tirana 1961 (Artani and Min’ja or the last mountain shadows), and an anonymous translation of the plays of García Lorca were published at the time. Three of his prose pieces were later edited by Ardian Klosi (b. 1957) in the volume Stina e stinëve, Prishtinë 1991 (The season of seasons), providing the reader with an initial glimpse into a fantasy world not unlike that of the tales of Mitrush Kuteli (1907-1967). The surrealist touch of what the author calls his ‘poetic realism’ is the result of his conscious revolt against the predominant current of socialist realism. Since the fall of the dictatorship, Trebeshina has published twelve volumes of writing, mostly short stories and drama.
Kasëm TREBESHINA
The Iceberg
An iceberg broke off in the Arctic,
It longed for and sought the Equator,
It voyaged afar through the oceans,
Day and night in the azure surge swimming.
Kissed by the waves, it was melting,
But ardour and lust burned within it,
The iceberg thus shortened its journey,
And melted to die in confusion.
(in prison, 1954)
[Aisbergu, from the volume Lirika dhe satira, Tirana: Marin Barleti, 1994, p. 3. Translated from the Albanian by Robert Elsie]
We Met in the Darkness
The two of us met in the darkness
In the darkness we parted once more,
No words of farewell to each other,
Embarking and leaving the shore.
We vanished then into the shadows
Separated, yes each went his way,
We bid a goodbye to the seacoast,
But no words to each other could say.
(1952)
[U njohëm në errësirë, from the volume Lirika dhe satira, Tirana: Marin Barleti, 1994, p. 5. Translated from the Albanian by Robert Elsie]
The Storks
Two storks soar over an island,
From the heights do they gaze in flight slow,
Beating wings both in grace and in grandeur,
O’er the cypress trees growing below.
Two storks fly over an island,
They ply the blue skies without rest,
In glory they circle and eye it,
Then continue their path to the West.
(1962)
[Lejlekët, from the volume Lirika dhe satira, Tirana: Marin Barleti, 1994, p. 65-66. Translated from the Albanian by Robert Elsie]
The Pelicans
In a pond are three pelicans paddling,
They’re as white as the light in a dream,
Three pelicans gliding in splendour,
As they ponder the mist and its gleam.
In a pond are three pelicans searching
For a life they have not, ne’er will see,
For a place and a realm far beyond them,
For a space in a cosmos to be.
In a pond are three pelicans longing
For fish and themselves in the blue,
In a pond are three pelicans swimming,
As they conjure that cosmos untrue.
(1962)
[Pelikanët, from the volume Lirika dhe satira, Tirana: Marin Barleti, 1994, p. 67. Translated from the Albanian by Robert Elsie]
Evening
Night is falling,
Sinking, settling over towns,
Over fields,
Mountains
And seas.
Falling, sinking for the living,
For the trees
And stones…
Falling, settling for the couple parting,
For the one who will die,
For the one to be born,
For all those who will meet again,
For a couple languishing in sighs
And silence,
Falling on the weary waves,
Sinking in this prison,
Falling, yes, for you,
Sinking, for me, too,
Falling, settling…
(1963)
[Mbrëmje, from the volume Lirika dhe satira, Tirana: Marin Barleti, 1994, p. 80. Translated from the Albanian by Robert Elsie]
Melancholy
The two of us are at the window
At the moon we sit and ponder,
Long apart and separated
Do we search for one another.
Close we were, our lives entwining
Almost hand in hand to wander,
Somewhere we’ll be reunited
When our paths cross in the moonlight.
(in prison, 1954)
[Melankoli, from the volume Lirika dhe satira, Tirana: Marin Barleti 1994, p. 14. Translated from the Albanian by Robert Elsie]
Silence
A sigh profound can but express
A small part of our sorrow,
A gentle word can but reveal
A small part of our pleasure.
Every word we’ve used in life
Has left a void behind it,
In silence only are we clear,
All things are said in silence.
(in prison, 1954)
[Heshtja, from the volume Lirika dhe satira, Tirana: Marin Barleti 1994, p. 15. Translated from the Albanian by Robert Elsie]
The Hounds
Stars encircle the axis of night,
Dreams are born in nighttime sleep,
Thoughts arise in the silence of night,
Weighty steps are striding!
Commotion in the distance
The hounds are barking!
In this nighttime urban jungle
The hounds are barking!
And a weighty step creaks on the stairs,
And a weighty step resounds in the streets,
A shot rings out between the houses,
The hounds are barking in the direful night
And a scream rings out
In the darkness.
Slowly the stars return to the axis of night
Dreams strive to hide in sleep,
In the distance hounds bark, steps resound,
Between the houses flows a stream of silent fear.
(1972)
[Qentë, from the volume Lirika dhe satira, Tirana: Marin Barleti 1994, p. 86. Translated from the Albanian by Robert Elsie]
Refrain
In sorrow
I am a tear spent in vain
That dries amongst your lashes.
In joy
I am a forgotten song
Voiced long ago.
In regret
I am a landscaped park
Without a tree.
In oblivion
I am the wind whipping the clouds
Through the blue sky.
In death
I am a house in ruins
Somewhere.
(1971)
[Refren, from the volume Lirika dhe satira, Tirana: Marin Barleti 1994, p. 85. Translated from the Albanian by Robert Elsie]