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MIGJENI (1911-1938) - life and work.
Born in Shkodra (Scutari) on Oct. 13, 1911, Migjeni became a teacher in Vrake, a village few miles from Shkodra, and began to write verse and short stories. Having contracted tuberculosis, he went for treatment in 1937 to Turin in northern Italy, where his sister Olga was studying at the university. After some time in the sanatorium there, he was transferred to the Waldensian Hospital in Torre Pellice, where he died on August 26, 1938 at the age of twenty-six.
Migjeni was one of the first poets to abandon the tradition of romantic nationalism, which lasted for a long time in Albanian literature. The contemporary poetry of Albania begins with Migjeni's poetry, which was characterized by a strong social ethic, not of pity for the poor, but of outrage against injustice and oppression. His volume of poetry entitled Free Verse ("Vargjet e lira") went to press in 1936, but was confiscated by authorities. His work in verse and in prose, came out only after his death.
Song of Youth

Sing, youth, the loveliest song you know!
Sing the song that seethes within your breast,
Let your joy burst forth in passion...
Don't hold back your song! Let it soar.

Sing your song, youth. I beg you sing...
Let it seize you, kiss you, inspire you to love
With youthful ardour... Let the foaming wave of feelings
Which your song arouses surge over us.

Sing your song, youth, and laugh like children!
Let the sound of your voice rise to the heavens
And echo back to us again, from the envious stars.

For we adore you, as we adore the sun.
Sing, youth! Sing your joyful song!
Laugh, youth, laugh! The world is yours.
...........................

Broken Melody

Broken melody -- tear sparkling in the eye
Of a woman loved...
Please past,
Jewel lost,
A trampled dream
Lips unkissed
In the broken melody.

With silent sobs the naked shoulders shake,
Their whiteness dazzling...
Stabbed, stabbed with remorse
For the moments of mindlessness,
For her ruined fate,
For the happiness lost
In the broken melody.

Face hidden in her hands in shame,
Remorsefully the woman weeps,
With heart despairing
(A broken guitar,
A voice stifled
On lips kissed by pain
In the broken melody).

Silent he stands beside the woman weeping
Scolding tears of shame
That dim her eyes.
Some money on the table quickly lays
And goes away,
Leaving the woman lost
In the broken melody.

But when another comes, lust mounts again,
The heated blood
Pounds furiously through the veins,
Benumbing mind
... and only gasps
And grants are heard
In the horrid melody.