E perkthyer ne Gjuhen Angleze
The Footsteps
Your footsteps, children of my silence,
With gradual and saintly pace
Towards the bed of my watchfulness,
Muted and frozen, approach.
Pure one, divine shadow,
How gentle are your cautious steps!
Gods! ...all the gifts that I can guess
Come to me on those naked feet!
If, with your lips advancing,
You are preparing to appease
The inhabitant of my thoughts
With the sustenance of a kiss,
Do not hasten the tender act,
Bliss of being and not being,
For I have lived on waiting for you,
And my heart was only your footsteps.
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Thjeshtesia dhe modestia i ben njerezit me te perparuar.
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Nė jetė, duhet pasur vullnet e durim tė mirat vijnė pastaj
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Happiness in intelliggent people is the rarest thing I know!
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