Ballad of the man the world did not know
(Baladë për njeriun që nuk e njihte bota)

Every morning he sent letters off to the whole world
With imaginary addresses and confusing messages
And on them he licked the stamps of his suffering
The man the world did not know

He rose and bowed to present himself
With arms raised he cried out to his own idols
He loitered in train stations, anticipated friends who never came to see
The man the world did not know

Every day at dawn he waited at the gate
For the postman to bring him replies
To his correspondence from someone in the far wide world
The man the world did not know

Message after message, words and requests
Not a scrap of dust on his typewriter
Not even the spiders came to rest in the room
Of the man the world did not know

And one day he stopped living, he had no more ink
His quill dried up, his typewriter fell silent
Who is this poor fellow? they said when they found him dead
The man the world did not know

The funeral parlour buried him
And put on his grave a tombstone
Only one letter arrived at his address
The bill for the burial
            Of the man the world did not know