An Albanian poem in the Irish film 'To the Moon'

Irish director Tadhg O’Sullivan’s ‘To the Moon’ won first prize at the Irish Film Festival.

In this film, a poem in the Albanian language is heard, ‘Elegy of the Forests’ (Alb: Elegjia e Pyjeve) by the Albanian writer Visar Zhiti!

A film by Irish director Tadhg O’Sullivan where the presence of the moon in film, literature, and other art forms on all planets are his basis.

In it is a common fascination with the Moon that crosses cultures and traditions to unite that forms the main point. It combines international writing, film clips from 25 countries, and music with contemplative and atmospheric effect, which, together with the universal nature of the moon as a symbol.

This is a cinematic room to the moon made in large part from archival sources combined with literary fragments. Interesting idea of ​​how people from many periods, have drawn from the moon dreams of escape, myths of paradise, songs of longing and loss, stories of the lost future, etc.

Below is Visar Zhiti's poem translated and adapted by Oculus News:

Forest area has been reduced

and the surface of fear has increased,

the area of ​​forests has been reduced,

there are fewer animals now

less courage and less lightning,

less beauty

and the moon is uncovered

as a violent deflowerment and

then abandoned,

the area of ​​forests has been reduced

the surface of poetry, of sighs,

fewer leaf words

the more gossip.

Forest area has been reduced

rivers are not fascinating, rivers are confused,

like zebras in zoological parks...

the area of ​​forests has been reduced

and the surface of shame,

how little shame we have now

we do not regret anything,

we have very little time to repent.

Roads are paved,

advertising and dilemmas

magazines, cinemas, and glories

the area of ​​cities has been enlarged

and the surface of shame is magnified

all the shame of not learning the newspapers

and continue to the next issue

and we subscribe to the next year of folly

The area of ​​forests has been reduced

and forest directorates have been added

the surface of love is diminished

and birds have less room

for their loves

that they do not know how to make love in offices

The surface of the faces is reduced

A cuckoo draws trees on the walls

in my eyes draws trees

does the tree tattoo

on the skin of his slender arm

as the end of the twentieth century

so much sticks the hot needle with paint

as the forest buzzes in blood like an inflamed wound.