Read also<\/b>:<\/p>\n BIOGRAPHY<\/b><\/p>\n Camaj (1925-1994)<\/strong> was born in Temali in the Dukagjin region of the northern Albanian alps. He is an \u00e9migr\u00e9 writer of significance both for Albanian literature and for Albanian scholarship. He received a classical education at the Jesuit Saverian college in Shkod\u00ebr and studied at the University of Belgrade. From there he went on to do postgraduate research in Italy, where he taught Albanian and finished his studies in linguistics at the University of Rome in 1960. From 1970 to 1990 he served as professor of Albanian studies at the University of Munich and lived in the mountain village of Lenggries in Upper Bavaria until his death on 12 March 1992.<\/p>\n Camaj’s academic research has concentrated on the Albanian language and its dialects, in particular those of southern Italy. His literary activities over a period of forty-five years cover several phases of development. He began with poetry, a genre to which he remained faithful throughout his life, but in later years also devoted himself increasingly to prose. His first volumes of classical verse Nji fyell nd\u00ebr male, Prishtina 1953 (A flute in the mountains), and K\u00e2nga e v\u00ebrrinit, Prishtina 1954 (Song of the lowland pastures), were inspired by his native northern Albanian mountains for which he never lost his attachment, despite long years of exile and the impossibility of return. These were followed by Djella, Rome 1958 (Djella), a novel interspersed with verse about the love of a teacher for a young girl of the lowlands.<\/p>\n His verse collections Legjenda, Rome 1964 (Legends) and Lirika mes dy moteve, Munich 1967 (Lyrics between two ages), which contained revised versions of a number of poems from K\u00e2nga e v\u00ebrrinit, were reprinted in Poezi 1953-1967, Munich 1981 (Poetry 1953-1967). Camaj’s mature verse reflects the influence of the hermetic movement of Italian poet Giuseppe Ungaretti (1888-1970). The metaphoric and symbolic character of his language increases with time as does the range of his poetic themes. A selection of his poetry has been translated into English by Leonard Fox in the volumes Selected Poetry, New York 1990, and Palimpsest, Munich & New York 1991.<\/p>\n My land<\/b><\/p>\n When I die, may I turn into grass [Vendit tem, from the volume Lirika midis dy moteve, Munich 1967, translated from the Albanian by Robert Elsie<\/a> and first published in English in An elusive eagle soars, Anthology of modern Albanian poetry, London: Forest Books 1993, p. 32]<\/span><\/p>\n To a modern poet<\/b><\/p>\n Your road is good: [Nji poeti t\u00eb sot\u00ebm, translated from the Albanian by Robert Elsie<\/a> and first published in English in An elusive eagle soars, Anthology of modern Albanian poetry, London: Forest Books 1993, p. 33]<\/span><\/p>\n The old deer<\/b><\/p>\n The shepherds abandoned the alpine pastures [Dreni plak, translated from the Albanian by Robert Elsie<\/a> and first published in English in An elusive eagle soars, Anthology of modern Albanian poetry, London: Forest Books 1993, p. 34]<\/span><\/p>\n Mountain feast<\/b><\/p>\n Blood was avenged today. [Drek\u00eb malsore, from the volume Lirika midis dy moteve, Munich 1967, translated from the Albanian by Robert Elsie<\/a> and first published in English in An elusive eagle soars, Anthology of modern Albanian poetry, London: Forest Books 1993, p. 35]<\/span><\/p>\n First elegy<\/b><\/p>\n When I am exhausted\n
\n![\"Martin](\"http:\/\/www.shkoder.net\/images\/shkodra\/martin-camaj-shkrimtar.jpg\")
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\nOn my mountains in spring,
\nIn autumn I will turn to seed.
\nWhen I die, may I turn into water,
\nMy misty breath
\nWill fall onto the meadows as rain.
\nWhen I die, may I turn into stone,
\nOn the confines of my land
\nMay I be a landmark.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
\nThe Parcae are the ugliest faces
\nOf classical myths. You did not write of them,
\nBut of stone slabs and of human brows
\nCovered in wrinkles, and of love.
\nYour verses are to be read in silence
\nAnd not before the microphone
\nLike those of other poets,
\nThe heart
\nThough under seven layers of skin
\nIs ice,
\nIce
\nThough under seven layers of skin.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
\nFor the warmth of the lowland valleys,
\nSauntering down the trails, talking loudly
\nAbout women and laughing
\nBeside the water of the stream bubbling forth
\nFrom well to well.
\nThe old deer raised its head from the scorched eartz
\nAnd observed the pale foliage. Then
\nIt departed to join its sons,
\nThey too with their minds on the does.
\nBroken, it too abandoned the alpine pastures and followed
\nThe merry murmur of the stream below, a fiery arrow,
\nThe wanderer in search of warmer pastures and winter grass
\nWhich it will never touch!
\nWhen they slew it, the shepherds pried its eyes open
\nAnd saw in the pupils
\nThe reflection of many deer drinking water from the stream.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
\nTwo bullets felled a man.
\nBlood was avenged today.
\nUnder the axe-head
\nThe ox’s skull bursts by the stream.
\n(Today there will be great feasting!)
\nBlood was avenged today.
\nThe wailing of men gone wild
\nMingles with the smell of meat on the fires
\nAnd the autumn foliage falls
\nScorched on the white caps
\nAt the tables, outside.
\nNight. At the graves on the hill
\nFresh earth, new moon.
\nThe wolves have descended from the mountains
\nAnd drink blood at the stream.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
\nBy the tribulations of age, steep like a cliff,
\nFeel no pain for me, Taze,
\nStretched out on the bier,
\nA lamb ready for sacrifice.
\nLet the old women mourn over me that day
\nFor their own people long since dead.
\nAnd one more request, my wife:
\nWhen my father died, we slaughtered two oxen
\nTo feed the starving – and the ants of the threshing-floor
\nWith breadcrumbs.
\nBut I shall die amidst people who are
\nAlways full,
\nSo at my wake serve
\nOnly bitter coffee.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n