I know that once I have loved you,
on a date that I can't remember well...

it was cold that night
it could have been winter, anyhow
you were unwashed, nameless
without perfume and a beer
desanctifed a hundred times,
but I have loved you
more than all the saints of the world

yes, I've been waiting for you too long,
but you didn't stay long enough
anyhow we'd still do the usual
**** that little love from our sweaty skin
then we would say to each other
'Good night, you are better than her'

Once i have loved you
on a date I can't remember quite well...
more than all the saints of the world,
the impotents that never knew how to love the way we do
and what they did when you went crazy while orgasming?
gave you flowers, sorted out the words
for their sterile loves

and didn't want any of them then,
so you wanted me
a wild haired stud
a descantified sinner for you
one hundred times,

we knew,
love was just an ordinary *****
and we were like that
not sacred as that day had to be
so I don't remember it quite well
and you haven't forgotten it, I know...

©Ndriçim Ademaj

this type of disrespectfulness
that all the idiots of all times
have called *******
an essential irony
affecting the taste of instincts

are you revenging?
are you making a soldier out of rationality?
don’t seek reasons to confirm
these feelings
eventually we fake ourselves
and accept the testimony of feelings
in the face of the enemy
in the face of the unfound truth

the aim of the artist
is ideological
an thus he is a human
he saves his own
morality
from being mutilated

the world as a mistake
a disgraceful yearning
with an instinct of self-preservation
which seeks nothing

refusing wars
against the impotents
and this type of disrespectfulness
coalesced with him
call “love”