My Africa ...
Lost in her eyes
Safar of my filing ..
Without what African sun
Born every day in the morning
in her eyes ..
And dies every evening
In my eyes ...

E shita lekuren bashke me kockat
E dhashe me cmim te lire
U lehtesova nga nje barre e rende
E mora udhen tutje si era...
Vetja s'mu duk rrugac,as shenjt
Per cudi u ndjeva me teper njeri!

Run like a crazy for your coffin
Run in fever for finding a bus..
That will carry people,pain,team..
Run to refuge,residence cemetery
But and for going there you need a friend...
Friend for a grave,gravedigger friend...
To seems like you and not somebody ellse
Friend for marble,friend for...
Run,run in this funeral
Funeral of lives..
Run,like in my funeral.
Leon Qafzezi poetry 2013

My heart like crazy horse,
Run at hottest areas of love ...
And finds the source in a kiss
Under the shade of an old tree
Gray leaves, moldy body,
Time flows in waves lust
Groaning in ecstasy, the moon,
Late at night, when twilight has turned ...
With contempt ...

Beyond those lights ...
Even before those lights,
There far away..Where sea lost in the horizon
Again bored people will find,
Since condolence genes in black coffee,
They openly speak of God
They secretly revile the government ....

My trembling Paris,
When I come e don't find you..
Paris my sadness,
When I sit at the Bar"Motte Piquett"and..
Cafe drink with you as before..
Paris my pain,
We emptiness of table
We once were at my mam,Paris,
Paris,lonely,you also...