Song of the Horned Lark
(Kënga e çerdhuklës)

Its song was indeed an opaque mutter; feather-light body, freed of life's heavy burden.

For wherever it went, untold weariness, sorrow and despair.

Now a black spot on the fields grows ever smaller,

Just as, 'midst snowdrifts at night, the parson's silhouette hastens to church from the house of some wavering soul.