Avalanche
(Mal i rrëxuem)

At six o'clock in the morning
It still withstood the storm.
At noon the forest, the face
Of the mountain, plunged into the river.

The sun came out and shone on the fresh earth,
The ruptured roots, the shattered trees
And the end in my conscience.

The inhabitants of the mountains on the other side asked:
Frail land, where can we now hide our eyes
On your treeless brow?