The Flute

Oh flute, I worship you with faith and longing
For I was raised, the consort of your trill divine
from the time I was a lad,
You poured dew into my soul,
At the height of my joy, my feelings merged
in a tenderness rare.

With you I felt an unslaked sense
Of love for Albanian soil
Which remains day after day in my dreams,
When your sounds, the treasures of the past,
Traverse my mind like a summer’s breeze
And with deep ecstasy.

When you speak to me and fill me,
Unending voices echo and swell
In waves like a chorus of angels,
Companions of the peaks, streams and hills,
From your lips flit fairies
As if from some majestic palace.

Like starlight and moonbeams in longing,
Sparkling on the surface of the lake,
I quiver like a lover,
As your words, harbingers of a message
From the Earthly Beauty, with fair tones,
offer us a breath of spring.

Like the season which begins to blossom,
Unfolding its wide wings within our bosom
To give us strength and divine grace,
So do you lend the world a new face
And create around us a joyous choir
When your notes traverse the scales.

With you does the shepherd climb to the mountain pastures
Moved by your magic melodies,
Your every fire melts his heart,
With you do young lads take to the dance,
Thrilled by your sacred songs of love
Welling anew within their breasts.

Like tender leaves quivering in the wind
Which in their rustling strike up a song
In perfect harmony,
Whosoever hears your chant
Recalls forgotten memories
Like a symphony from the heavens.

The farmer bent behind his plough
Or scything ripened sheaves of grain
Knows not why he slaves,
Yet with you all his hardship dissolves
As his thirst abates when he scoops
And drinks the waters of mountain springs.

From ancient times our ancestors
Bore you in their belts, sabres brandished,
Singing their fiery songs
And spreading courage in the thick of battle,
Always were they rewarded for their toil,
As was the legendary Alexander.

With you did the goddess Minerva
While away the hours in delight,
Up on flashing Olympia
And the nymphs around her like tiny stars
In the rhythmic pacing of the dance
Teased jealous Bacchus.

Virgil, master and famed singer
Of ancient times, and Mozart –
With you, they built their sacred altars,
With you do nations dream,
Nourished on lofty ideals
From a healing source.

So many others have followed,
As new tokens of progress,
Which no one on earth can oppose,
To you, poets will always weave hymns,
For with your strength and courage, magic flute,
You soar above them all.

[Fyelli, from the volume Psallme Murgu, Bucharest 1930. Translated from the Albanian by Robert Elsie]